


Spirits

by GoldenDaydreams



Series: Necromancy!AU [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Covens, Crushes, Dissociation, Family of Choice, First Dates, Friendship, Gen, Hank and Gavin are partners, Look At All Those Angst Tags, M/M, Maximum Toast, Minor Injuries, Necromancy, RK Bros, RK800-60 is Rhys, RK900 is Noah, Return of Gavin's Competency Kink, Russian Roulette, Sleepwalking, Spirits, Suicide Attempt, Urban Fantasy, Witches, sibling dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams
Summary: Hank and Noah aren't so different.They're both running from the dead.





	1. Chapter 1

Hank had plans for when he got home from work after a twelve hour shift. It involved a beer or two, a frozen dinner, and going to bed. However, there was always the possibly passing out on the sofa watching trash television. Either way, his plans hadn’t included nearly having a heart attack, and slamming on the breaks to avoid hitting a man when he turned onto his street.  
  
His hands clenched on the steering-wheel. The rain came down so hard the windshield wipers could barely keep up. “What the fuck,” he hissed under his breath, still too shaken to work himself up to anger. The man kept walking, as if he hadn’t nearly been hit. Hank couldn’t believe that the man hadn’t noticed the headlights.  
  
Hank put the car into park, he leaned forward in his seat, squinting to see through the rain. The man wasn’t wearing a jacket. On a pass of his windshield wipers, he also noted that the man wasn’t wearing shoes. He half suspected drugs- who other than a junkie would be out in the rain like this? He hit his four-way lights, and stepped out of the vehicle, the rain pelting down on him.  
  
“Hey!” he shouted. The man kept walking, good posture, head held high. “Hey!” he shouted again. “You can’t just be wandering in the middle of the street!”  
  
All he wanted was a beer, a hot meal, and sleep. Was that too much to ask for? He thought about laying on the horn, but it was after ten, and he doubted his neighbours would appreciate it too much. Part of him wanted to ignore the guy, pretend he saw nothing, but he’d spent too much of his life upholding the law, and protecting the citizens of Detroit to do so.  
  
He slammed his car door shut before any more water could get in, and ran over, got in front of the guy, and blocked him. The man stopped. He was nearly as tall as Hank, a good couple decades younger, dark hair soaked and plastered to his head, pale skinned, lips turning blue from the cold, little moles dotting his cheekbones along with a light dusting of freckles. He was shaking, obviously freezing cold, but his eyes seemed dead and gone, pale blue or grey it was hard to see in the piss poor lighting.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Hank asked.  
  
Instead of answering, the man swayed slightly left, and stepped around Hank.  It was odd, Cole used to do the same when he would sleep walk.  
  
Jesus fucking Christ, the man was sleepwalking.  
  
The advice the doctor had given Hank when Cole had been sleepwalking was to gently guide him back to bed. Not to wake him physically- that typically would trigger a fight response. A loud noise at a distance would do.  
  
A horn blaring as a car passed his parked one made the decision. The man stumbled, looked around frantically with a wide-eyed terror, teeth chattering as he crossed his arms.  
  
“Hey, you’re okay,” Hank said, trying to get through to the disoriented man. “You’ve been sleepwalking.”  
  
The man looked at the houses, then back to Hank. “Slee-sleep-wa-wa-walking?”  His teeth clicked against each other breaking up his speech.  
  
“Yeah,” Hank pointed to his house. “That’s my place, just wait on the porch, it’s at least sheltered. I have to get my car. We’ll figure this out, okay?”  
  
It wasn’t like the guy had a lot of options. The man nodded, and walked across the lawn- the grass probably felt better under his bare feet.  
  
Hank ran back to his car, drove past two houses, and into his driveway. The few minutes in the rain had chilled him to the bone, and whoever this guy was had clearly been out there longer.  
  
Keys in hand, he walked briskly through the rain, and unlocked the door. “Come on in.” He glanced over at the man, as he shucked off his jacket. “I’m Hank.”  
  
“N-Noah,” the man replied.  
  
“Do you think you need to go to a hospital?” Hank asked.  
  
“No, no hos-hospital,” he said, eyes widening. “I’m just cold.”  
  
Hank nodded. “We’ve got to get you out of those clot-err,” he physically bit on his own tongue. “Not how that was supposed to come out.”  
  
Noah grinned, a little blush warming his cheeks. “I di-didn’t think it was.”  
  
“I’ll get you a towel, and something dry to wear. You can use my phone, don’t figure you have one on you.”  
  
Noah glanced down at himself, patting at the empty wet pockets of his shorts. “No. I don’t even know anyone’s number off the top of my head. I could just get a ca-no wallet.”  
  
“First, let’s make sure you don’t die of pneumonia.” Hank led the way into the hall. From the closet, he pulled out a towel, and passed it to Noah. “I’ll grab you some clothes to change into.” In his own room, he grabbed the warmest sweater he owned, a old pair of sweatpants from when he was about thirty pounds lighter, and with a drawstring figuring it might be the only thing that would stay on the guy’s lean hips.  
  
Noah stood across the hall, just on the threshold of the bathroom, hugging the dry towel. His smile hidden, but giving a crinkle around his eyes. “Thank you for your hospitality.”  
  
Someone had raised the young man right. “You’re welcome.” Hank passed the clothes off, then slipped back into his own room to change- his shirt had been protected from the rain by his jacket, but his jeans ended up uncomfortably wet. He tossed them in the corner to be dealt with it later, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants.  
  
He walked down the hall, and glanced into the living room at his snoring dog. “Good job, Sumo.”  
  
In the kitchen, he checked his freezer, and realized he needed to do grocery shopping badly. He grabbed the only thing inside- a half a bag of freezer-burnt fries. “Great.” He threw them back in the freezer, where they had probably been for the past two years.  
  
Noah emerged with his wet clothes in hand. “Do you have a bag?”  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Hank turned around, checked under the sink and brought out one of the paper bags from the grocery store. He passed it over, and Noah put his soaked, but folded clothes inside.  
  
“You’re a police officer?” The question seemed out of left field, but then he noticed that Noah was running his fingers over the decals on the front of the old grey DPD hoodie.  
  
“Lieutenant,” he said.  
  
Noah’s eyes widened. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson!”  
  
Hank frowned. “How do you know that?”  
  
“You’re partners with Gavin Reed,” he said excitedly. He pointed to himself. “I know Gavin!”  
  
Hank didn’t have the best relationship with his work partner. They tolerated each other, and Hank had to admit that Gavin more than held up his part of the caseload, and often even covered for Hank. Still an ass though.  
  
“Huh,” he gave the young man another look over. “You’re one of Gavin’s friends.”  
  
Noah glanced at the floor, and gave a lazy shrug. “Not really. But he’s my brother’s boyfriend so-”  
  
The connection hit Hank all at once. “You’re a witch,” Hank said slow, in a state of shock, horror bleeding into each word.  
  
What little colour that had returned to Noah disappeared as he paled. Light eyes held fear, as he backed up a few steps, shadows pitched left and right, his hands went up in the air, the brown paper bag tumbled to the floor. “I’ll leave.”  
  
Two of his last ten homicide cases had been hate crimes against witches, and he felt a little sick to see the instantaneous fear, a learned fear, on the young man’s face, to know his presence was what caused it.  
  
“Wait.” He knew Gavin was dating a witch, a necromancer. As far as he knew, the shadow games were harmless. “I’ll call Gavin.” He reached grabbed his phone, went through his contacts. The shadows seemed to make the image of clawed hands reaching out and creeping along the walls. “Mind cutting that out?”  
  
“I can’t help it,” Noah replied softly. “I’m… nervous.”    
  
Hank frowned, unimpressed. He kept eyes on the walls, trying to stay out of reach, but they swirled upon the floor too.  
  
“It won’t hurt you,” Noah said.  
  
Hank didn’t respond. He hit dial on Gavin’s number, it took a couple of rings, but he finally got a groggy ‘ _what_?’  
  
“Your boyfriend’s brother is here.”  
  
A pause. “At the precinct?”  
  
“No. My house.”  
  
“The fuckin’ what? Which brother?”  
  
“Noah.”  
  
A longer pause. “Why the fuck-” then a quieter, “Con, babe, wake up.” A sniffle. “He okay?”  
  
“You talk to him.” Hank didn’t want to get too close. He slid the phone on the dining table. For every step Noah took toward it, Hank took one back.  
  
Noah grabbed the phone carefully, both hands, put it to his ear. “Gavin.”  
  
Hank felt out of the loop, only hearing Noah’s half of the conversation.  
  
“No, don’t put Co-Hey Connor.”  
“Sleepwalking, apparently.”  
“I don’t remember.”  
The shadows took a violent pitch to the left, and seemed to vibrate. “I don’t remember!”  
“I’m safe,” he mumbled- Hank almost missed it.  
“No, Lieutenant Anderson has been most hospitable.”  
“Okay.”  
  
Noah just as carefully ended the call, and put the phone back on the table. “Thank you.”  
  
He heard Sumo get up, his nails on the floor. “If your magic hurts my dog-”  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
Sumo came to the edge of the kitchen, growling at the shadows, snarling as they clawed closer.  
  
“Get it under control,” Hank shouted at the witch.  
  
“I can’t!” Noah shouted, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.  
  
“You’re a fucking _nines_?” He had to take entire courses about witches in his law classes. His research went a lot deeper when one was the reason his son’s life was cut so tragically short. An overpowered witch, a 'nines.'  
  
Noah lowered his hands from his face. He didn’t admit anything, but didn’t deny it either.  
  
Sumo kept snarling at the shadows, but they didn’t do him any harm. Hank and Noah remained standing, facing each other in the kitchen for nearly forty minutes before there was a bang at the door.  
  
“It’s unlocked,” Hank shouted.  
  
Gavin gave a quick pat to Sumo’s head when he passed, walking into the shadows without a care- a far cry from the man who’d hated witches just as passionately as Hank a few months ago.  
  
Another man walked in behind Gavin. He had to be Noah’s brother, Connor. The brothers had many similarities, their mouths, their noses, the dark hair- but Connor’s dark eyes were guarded, while Noah’s light ones were wide, vulnerable. Noah had a few inches over his brother, but seemed so much smaller once the other witch entered the room.  
  
“I can’t-” Noah said.  
  
“I’ve got you,” Connor replied, placing a hand on his brother’s temple, the other over his chest.  
  
The claws lost their form, dissipated into smoke leaving the room much lighter than it had been before. Noah blinked slow, his body swaying. Connor quickly moved to catch his brother, and Gavin stepped in to help lower Noah down to a sitting position against the wall. Connor returned to whatever he was doing before.  
  
“So you found him sleepwalking?” Gavin asked Hank, but his attention was divided between the conversation, and Connor doing… whatever he was doing to Noah.  
  
“Middle of the fucking road in all dark clothes,” Hank snapped. “I could have hit him!”  
  
Gavin cursed, soft and quiet, glanced back at the brother’s on the floor. Noah’s head kept bobbing as if fighting off sleep, but slowly succumbing to it. Eventually his head rested on Connor’s shoulder, hand’s limp at his sides.  
  
Connor turned to them. “Gav, can you help me get him to the car?”  
  
“Yeah, sure.” Gavin crouched down to get an arm over his shoulder while Connor took the other side. “Ready? Lift.”  
  
Connor stumbled when he lifted, Noah likely would have fallen had Gavin not been supporting the majority of the man in the first place. Connor’s hand came down hard on the table, a flicker of black around it, spreading, before returning.  
  
“Connor!” Gavin couldn’t do anything but watch, burdened by the weight of the younger brother.  
  
“I’m- I’m okay.” But both hands were on the table, and his arms were shaking. “I just- I over did it a bit today, that’s all.”  
  
“Sit down a minute. I’ll get Noah to the car.”  
  
Connor didn’t sit though, even as Gavin had to shift Noah into a fireman’s carry to have any hope of moving him alone, and get the doors open. Hank watched Gavin open the door, the sound of the rain pouring down intensified, and Gavin cursed before rushing out.  
  
“Thank you,” Connor said.  
  
“I didn’t do much.”  
  
“You did more than most would,” Connor replied.  
  
He heard the car door slam shut, and a few seconds later, Gavin came running back into the house. He walked back over to Connor, a hand on the small of his back. “You okay?”  
  
“Of course,” Connor replied, but it sounded almost like a question.  
  
“Come on, let’s get back to bed,” Gavin said, guiding Connor. “See you at work, Anderson.”  
  
“Yeah,” Hank muttered, the door shutting behind them, and he could finally relax. Sumo whined from the edge of the kitchen, apparently still too afraid to come in.  
  
He really needed that beer.  
  
___  
  
  
Noah stood on the steps to Hank’s home three days later. He glanced back at the taxi, the driver texting while the vehicle was parked. He shouldn’t have come. He glanced at the paper bag tucked under his left arm, he could leave it on the doorstep. His attention shifted to the edible arrangement of fruits and chocolates- the television ad had convinced him it was an acceptable gift. However, he’d been watching infomercials at three in the morning- and perhaps that wasn’t the best time to be making decisions- especially since he hadn’t been able to sleep in thirty eight hours and counting.  
  
The door opened before he could knock. Hank physically took a step back, obviously not expecting anyone to be at his door, and Noah had nearly dropped the gift basket in his own surprise.  
  
“Hello Lieutenant.”  
  
Hank pointed a half piece of buttered toast at him. “The fuck are you doing here?”  
  
Sumo snarled behind him, and Noah realized Hank was about to take his dog for a walk. Noah never had a dog. Or a cat. Or been around any animals really. Once, Amanda had indulged him in a goldfish. It died the next day.  
  
 The large dog made his palms sweat. “I wanted to return your clothes.” He lifted the bag the best he could with how awkwardly he carried it. “I washed them.” Which had been an annoyance. He and his brothers all hated to do laundry, so he’d washed some of his clothes with Hanks, some of Rhys’s things also ended up in the wash -damn the pause feature- and Noah hadn’t noticed until he had it all eighty percent folded. When Hank still didn’t say anything he adjusted his grip on the arrangement of fruits cut in various shapes, some dipped in chocolate. “I got you this, as a thank you.”  
  
Sumo barked, and Noah felt his sweaty grip on the cellophane slipping. “Would you mind grabbing it?”  
  
For a moment he didn’t think Hank would, but then he guided his dog back, with a gentle nudge. “Back Sumo, back.” He grabbed the gift, and then turned around. “Come in.”  
  
It was more than he’d been expecting, but he stepped over the threshold, and followed Hank into the kitchen where they’d had a tense stand off. Hank put the arrangement on the counter, and then let the dog out in the back- however the dog gave large, sorrowful eyes, clearly not pleased with the lack of the walk that had been promised by the leash.  
  
“Out,” Hank said, and the giant dog lumbered out the back deck and started sniffing at the grass.  
  
Noah set the paper bag with the clothes down on the dining table. “I’m sorry about the other night.”  
  
Hank fussed with the cellophane, back to him. “You can’t really help sleepwalking.”  
  
“It’s never happened before. Hasn’t happened since,” Noah said. “Connor thinks it’s a one off.”  
  
“How are your feet?”  
  
“My feet?”  
  
“Noticed they were a little scraped up when you came in. You must have been walking a while.”  
  
“A few hours-”  
  
Hank looked over his shoulder. “In that storm?”  
  
Noah felt cold thinking about it. Waking up drenched, chilled to the bone, disoriented in the darkness, streetlights, sheets of rain, shadows, and figures of people that may or may not be _alive_.  
  
He shrugged. “It is what it is.”  
  
Hank frowned. “And the fruit basket?”  
  
“I told you, a thank you gift.”  
  
A little hum from Hank. “Odd, but okay.”  
  
“How is that odd? The advertisement made it seem perfectly normal.”  
  
“You usually take social cues from advertisements?”  
  
Noah tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t get out much. Is it really that strange?”  
  
“Guys don’t usually get guys a fruit basket.”  
  
“Flowers?”  
  
Hank turned at that, crossing his arms, and leaning back against the counter. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re being serious, or fucking with me.”  
  
Noah shrugged, a grin pulling at the one corner of his lip. “The majority of my influences are Connor and Rhys, so it could be either.”  
  
A couple of barks at the door, and Hank let Sumo back inside. The dog eyed Noah, but didn’t bark at him. Still, he eyed the dog warily. “I should go before someone else gets my cab.”  
  
“Okay. Thanks, for the… fruit.”  
  
Noah’s heart thudded against his chest. “You’re welcome.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, awkwardly turned, and visualized dying.  
  
———  
  
“Hey!” Hank snapped, swatting Gavin in the arm.  
  
“Fuck off,” Gavin muttered.  
  
“You need to stay awake.”  
  
“I’m awake.” Gavin sat up a little straighter in the passenger’s seat. From the corner of his eye, Hank could see Gavin gently poking at the stitches along his hairline.  
  
“You shouldn’t touch it,” Hank advised.  
  
Gavin lowered his hand. “Hurts like a mother- and I can’t believe you called Connor.”  
  
“You asked me to.”  
  
“I did?” Gavin’s face scrunched up.  
  
It was a good thing that Gavin had been able to answer the doctors questions about his name, the date, basic current events otherwise that might have been enough to make him turn the car around. Fact was, Gavin had asked for Connor soon after he’d regained consciousness.  
  
 Hank had been terrified hearing the repetitive ‘thuds’ down the hall. He’d been busy cuffing one suspect. Gavin had gone off chasing the other. When Hank got to the stairwell, the suspect was gone, and Gavin was at the bottom with blood covering half his face.  
  
They’d transported him to the hospital wanting to check to make sure there weren’t any skull fractures. He’d been lucky. A concussion, some mild bruising- it could have been a lot worse.  
  
“Yeah, you did.”  
  
“Oh.” He rubbed his face. “Fuck.”  
  
“You were giving me directions,” Hank said.  
  
“Right. No, don’t turn right,” Gavin said. “Left, the house is to the left.”  
  
If he didn’t have a concussion, Hank might have hit him in the back of the head. Hank followed the rest of Gavin’s directions, pulled into the driveway where there was only one vehicle, but if the dents in the grass was any indication, there were often many more.  
  
The front door opened, and Gavin hadn’t even closed the car door before Connor was wrapping him up in his arms. “Gavin!”  
  
Hank watched from across the top of the car, a serene smile on Gavin’s face. Smoke slithered down Gavin’s back, and Hank instinctively took a step back. He had to swallow down the warning, for surely Gavin knew, and accepted his boyfriend’s magic.  
  
“Would you like to come inside?”  
  
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he quickly turned around. Noah stood there in a pair of jeans, and a sweater that was unseasonable. Hank felt hot just looking at him.  
  
“Might be polite to give them a minute.”  
  
Hank glanced over, Connor and Gavin were still locked in that embrace, magic still flowing over Gavin. At this point it would be more awkward to remain.  
  
“Alright,” Hank agreed. Noah led the way past the row of flowers, the deck was small but was lined with flowering plants in bright and happy colours. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he walked in, but the bright and airy kitchen wasn’t it. Nor was the numerous pegs on the wall, and shoes racks that had an assortment of shoes in different styles, and colours. The blast of air conditioning was refreshing.  
  
“Would you like a coffee?” Noah asked.  
  
“Sure,” Hank replied. He stood in awe of the kitchen island, never seen one so big. The counter-top was a large square of quartz. Three vases of varying sizes and coloured glass sat in the center, flowers spilling out in a riot of colour, and beauty. There were four stools tucked under the one side, and another four around the corner. Hank walked to the other side but it was a set of drawers and a cabinet. The stainless steel fridge was double wide, he supposed it had to be full of enough food to feed a coven.  
  
The grinder caught Hank’s attention. “Instant would have been fine.”  
  
“This is Rhys’s top shelf coffee,” Noah said. “He pays a stupid amount for it.”  
  
“Then why are you making it for me?” Hank asked.  
  
“He didn’t pick me up a milkshake yesterday after I asked him to.”  
  
Hank huffed out a laugh. “Is it hard, living in close quarters with your siblings?”  
  
“Sometimes,” Noah replied. He dumped the grounds into the filter, and set the machine. “We’ve lived in a coven our whole lives though, so we’re used to living in close proximity to others. In general we get along.”  
  
Hank glanced down the hallway, there were two staircases, one going up, another going down. Another room was at the end of the hall, more vases of flowers. “Is someone here a florist or something?”  
  
“Simon is,” Noah replied. “He’s a geomancer, has a natural affinity for plants. You’re not allergic, are you?”  
  
“No, just not used to seeing so many flowers around.” In fact, he hadn’t seen so many since his son’s funeral.  
  
The door opened, and Connor was hovering over Gavin as though he might fall over at any moment. Gavin just put up with Connor pulling the jacket from his shoulders, hanging it on one of the many pegs. Gavin kicked off his shoes, and took a seat at one of the stools. “That coffee smells good.”  
  
“You can’t have caffeine with a concussion,” Connor said.  
  
Gavin squinted. “Pretty sure that’s a suggestion, not a rule.”  
  
Connor leveled him with a dark glare, shadows swirling around his person. “Oh, it’s a rule, Gavin.”  
  
Gavin’s grin turned a little dopey. “If you say so, Con.”  
  
“Take the foreplay to the bedroom please,” Noah said, struggling to keep a straight face.  
  
Connor’s phone went off, and half a second later so did Noah’s. They both pulled their respective phones out. Hank watched Noah’s face, the way the young man pursed his lips a little, then glanced over at Connor, who frowned at his phone while he typed.  
  
“Everything okay?” Hank asked Noah in a whisper.  
  
“Group chat.” Noah tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Coven started questioning what’s wrong with Connor.”  
  
Hank frowned. “But how-”  
  
“The Coven is all tied to their house parent, and he-” he nodded towards Connor, “to them. Their magic is all tied in some way to Connor.”  
  
“Their?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You said ‘their magic,’ not ‘our.’”  
  
Noah turned, and opened a cabinet. “I can’t be tied into a coven.” He grabbed a mug, poured the coffee which was still percolating a couple of drops hitting the warmer at the bottom, sizzling and leaving the scent of burnt coffee in the air before Noah returned the coffee pot.  
  
He held out the mug, smoke around his hands. The sight alone made it hard for Hank to breathe. Noah set the coffee down on the island, and backed up a few steps, the magic lingered on him.  
  
Gavin and Connor were having their own conversation, quiet murmurs, Gavin glancing at the screen of Connor’s phone every once in a while.  
  
“Why not?” Hank asked, grabbing the mug. “If you’re so powerful-”  
  
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Noah replied, the shadows creeping, crawling, clawing along the quartz, the cabinets, darkening the room as they spread to the windows.  
  
“Noah,” Connor’s tone sharp with warning.  
  
Noah seemed to be taking measured breaths, his hands clenched into fists. “Enjoy your coffee,” he said. He side-stepped around Hank, walked down the hall, the shadows lingered, but started to fade as the hall became darkness.  
  
Hank frowned. “I should head out,” he said to Gavin. “You’re in good hands now.”  
  
Connor walked him to the door. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate you bringing Gavin home safely.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Hank replied not knowing what to say. He stepped off the deck and gave lazy wave over his shoulder. “See you around.”  
  
“I’m getting the feeling you will.” Hank glanced back, Connor was standing in the doorway, magic swirling around his fingers. “Have a safe drive, Lieutenant.”


	2. Chapter 2

The gardens were gorgeous this time of year, everything in full bloom. The peonies were bright and heavy. A good rainfall would have their petals falling to the ground. For now they were beautiful, vibrant, full of life- but they wouldn’t last.   
  
Noah crouched down, touched one gently with his fingertips, the petal silky under his touch. He drew his hand away as his magic started to slip forward, stood and admired from a step away.   
  
“It’s a beautiful time of year, isn’t it?”   
  
“Yes,” Noah smiled a little.   
  
“Would you walk with me?”   
  
Noah nodded, and the two of them fell into step. The scent of roses and peonies followed them as they walked along the garden’s cobblestone path. The summer air was warm, but luckily not stifling. “This is nice,” Noah commented, pausing to look up, sunbeams filtered through leaves of the large oak tree, and warmed his face.   
  
“You’ve been stressed, and haven’t been sleeping enough.”   
  
He didn’t argue. The stress of his building power, the cracks in his control. He’d never had a good sleep cycle, between the dead disrupting him, or the nightmares, he lived life in a near permanent state of exhaustion.   
  
“I know you’re struggling,” the words were spoken with soft kindness. “I just want to let you know-”  
  
The breath left all at once, pain shot out from his spine into the rest of his back, something scraped along the skin of his arms. Brick. The garden, gone. “Not all there, are you?” The man sneered, looking him over. Not just one man, but three? Were there three? Auras of dark blue, and deep red, both colours muddied- by fear? Anger?   
  
The punch took him by surprise, caught him hard in the jaw, knocked him into the wall, off balance. “Still not going to answer me, huh?”   
  
“What?” Noah blinked, struggling to get his mind caught up to the reality versus the-  
  
“Where did you get your fix, asshole?”   
  
Noah caught sight of the intersection sign. He knew it. Several blocks from the Coven house.   
  
The man’s hand caught him by the throat and shoved him back into the wall. “I said-” the punch in the gut made it hard to breathe, much less answer, “where did you get your fix?”   
  
“Check his pockets,” the other man said. “Bastien marks his product, if he’s selling this far-”  
  
Noah slammed his hand into the elbow of the arm holding his neck, and permitted the magic to run through him, it spilled over, warm on his skin, the men looked at him in horror. “Leave. Now,” Noah snarled, magic clawing up the building, the sidewalk, his own body.   
  
“Fucking witches!” one of the men pulled out a gun, and the responding pulse of magic slammed all three men back, cracked the windows on two parked cars within the radius, and set off a row of car alarms.   
  
Noah didn’t wait to see if they got back up, he ran, ducked around the first corner. Magic still flowed, swirled, and obscured his own vision. There were people all around, but they seemed stagnant, out too late to be alive. He walked around them. He checked himself; feet bare, shorts (no phone), and a t-shirt with a tiny knife motif- Rhys’s, stolen because Noah hadn’t felt like doing laundry.   
  
He knew the area well enough, the tattoo parlour that Chloe worked at was nearby. He’d fallen asleep with his watch on, it was nearing midnight which was when the shop closed up, he might be lucky. He ran there, keeping an eye behind him, but no one came. Chloe stood out front, locking the door.   
  
“Chloe!”   
  
Magic pulsed from her, soft, caressing over the area, felt like a warm autumn breeze. She turned directly to him, she had the power to knock a man back a few steps, but in one simple move, she’d just felt out the area. “Noah, what are you doing here?” She looked him over. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes- were you sleep walking again? Are you okay?” She came over to him, stepping into the darkness that surrounded him fearlessly.   
  
“I just want to go home,” he said.   
  
“Yeah, okay,” she nodded her head to the short alleyway. “I’m parked in the back.”   
  
He walked along side her, she had her phone out, flashlight mode activated, helping him avoid the worst of the stones, and bits of broken glass. He waited a moment while she fished through her purse for the keys to her car. The locks popped with a press of a button, and he got in. His feet were sore, and sitting felt nice, exhaustion hit him like a weighted blanket.   
  
Chloe started the car, then pressed the light above the rear-view mirror. The cab of the car became illuminated. She looked over at him, eyes widening, lips softening into a little ‘o’. “By the Goddess,” her fingers reached slowly, his magic reaching out to greet her. She was one of the few people who didn’t shy away from the darkness, being a necromancer, she too knew it well. “Who did this to you?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“These bruises on your throat?”   
  
“Some guy,” he rubbed his eyes. “He- I think he thought I was high- said something about getting a fix-” That didn’t make sense. It was a good neighbourhood. A gang infringing on new territory? “I don’t know.”   
  
“And what did you do to them?” Chloe asked.   
  
Noah tensed, looked over at her. “I had to get away.”   
  
She rubbed the bridge of her nose, the tattoo of the planet Jupiter on her finger. “Where?”   
  
“Let’s just go hom-”  
  
“We need to know if you really hurt these guys,” Chloe replied. “It will look bad on the coven- it could get Connor in a lot of trouble-”  
  
“Okay, okay-” he gave in, told her, and held the door handle tight. The last thing he needed was to cause more trouble for Connor. For their coven. The streetlights blinded him one by one as they passed, he stared out the side window at them anyway. Chloe was right, it would be better to check than to wonder if those men were injured.   
  
They turned onto the street, and the car jolted to a stop. Noah nearly fell out of the car in his haste, shocked by the utter destruction. Glass from the windows of buildings and cars littered the streets. Some of the cars were on fire. The three men who’d been harassing him were dead in the street, their bodies little more than dried husks, darkness lingering over them like it feasted upon their spirits.   
  
“Goddess,” Chloe whispered. She then turned to him. “What have you done?”   
  
“I-I didn’t do _this_ ,” he replied, desperate to make her believe. “I just gave them a little push, I didn’t, I didn’t do this!”   
  
“You killed them!” Chloe cried, eyes rimmed red, and watery. “How could you!”   
  
“I didn’t do this, I didn’t,” he shook his head, closed his eyes. “I didn’t do this-”   
  
“We will both be punished for this,” Connor said. Noah didn’t even have time to question how his brother had arrived, not when he was looking so resigned to their fates. “I should have left you with Amanda.”   
  
Those words hurt worse than anything else he’d experienced in the night.   
  
Connor crouched down in front of him, and grabbed one of the shards of glass. He grabbed Noah’s hand, and put it in his grip. “There is only one way out of this for you, better by your own hand. Show your remorse, maybe the council will go easy on the coven then. We shouldn’t all be punished for your lack of control.”   
  
“Connor?” He understood the meaning of his brother’s words just fine, but it was sharper than the glass cutting through his palm.   
  
“Do you want Chloe to be punished?” Connor asked. “Simon? Markus? North? _Rhys_?”  
  
He shook his head, a sick sense of dread hit like a weight in his stomach. “No, no of course not.”   
  
The firelight flickered along the plains of Connor’s face. “Do it.”   
  
The logic was sound. He didn’t want the coven to suffer. He would be executed for murder anyway. “I’m sorry, Connor.”   
  
“I know,” Connor said softly, putting his hand over Noah’s, guiding the jagged shard of glass to the vein in his wrist.   
  
He could barely see through the tears, his hand shaking so bad he’d never be able to make a straight line, but he pressed. Pressure gave way to pain, blood rushed to the surface, poured from the wound.   
  
When he blinked, he saw that Connor was smiling.   
  
“Noah!” the voice pitched with panic. “Markus! Markus! Oh fuck! Noah? Come on, say something.” A hand slapped lightly on his cheek twice. “Come on.” Pressure on his wrist, tightening, warming, hot, hot, too hot.   
  
“Connor!” A deeper voice. “Simon, call 911-”  
  
“He can’t go to a hospital-” Simon objected.  
  
“He has to-” North replied  
  
“We have no choice,” another voice- Connor?   
  
Noah managed to open his eyes, to see the blood on the white tiled floor detouring in the grout. North’s hands were around his wrist, fingers tight as possible, a dark red cloth under her hands. Markus was crouched near her, Connor behind him. “Markus get a car started.” Connor ordered. “North, keep as much pressure on as you can, and get his arm elevated.”   
  
“Con, why?” Noah was disoriented, he just wanted to sleep. “I did what you asked.”   
  
Connor’s calm-cool facade broke with a sob. “We’re going to get you patched up.” He managed a tourniquet, quick and efficient. “You’re going to be okay.”   
  
“I didn’t mean to kill them. I have to atone.”   
  
Connor shushed him, adjusted him to a position to be lifted. “North?”  
  
“I’ve got him.”  
  
Other coven members were around. He saw them as Connor moved him quickly. Chloe sobbing against Simon’s chest. Josh standing in shock.   
  
“Stay with me,” Connor said, as the three of them maneuvered out the door Markus had smartly left open. “Stay awake, Noah!”   
  
A pulse of magic came with the order, but it didn’t have any real effect. Noah’s head lulled back, he stared up at the few stars he could see through the lights. A man stood in the shadows, aura warm, a frown on his face.   
  
“Noah, stay awake!” Connor yelled, but he sounded so very far away.   
  
But Noah was tired.   
  
Very tired.


	3. Chapter 3

Hank hit send. His report for the homicide he and Gavin had been working since mid-day had finally come to a close. It was close to two in the morning, and if Jeffery thought he’d be in at eight sharp, he was out of his god-damned mind.  
  
Gavin tipped his head back, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes aggressively. “Ready to do this again in six hours?” he asked in a deadpan.  
  
“I’m overjoyed about it,” Hank replied, equally dry.  
  
Gavin gave a slight grin, stood, and grabbed his jacket. His phone started to ring, and he gave it a wary glance- probably concerned they were being called into another murder. Hank saw the caller ID of CONNOR ARKAY on the screen before Gavin grabbed it, swiped to answer, and put the phone to his ear. “Everythi-” Gavin’s words died as his eyes widened, he listened, and for a long tense moment, Hank just watched, Gavin’s face shutting down like he was dealing with a difficult crime scene. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.” Gavin hung up, and then cursed. “I fucking jogged into work this morning.” He turned to Hank. “I need your car.”  
  
“The fuck you do, I’ll drive if you need to go.”  
  
“Then move it old man,” Gavin demanded.  
  
It wasn’t until they were in the car that Hank finally asked. “What happened?” He was expecting the answer to be a hate crime, someone pissed at a witch-  
  
“Noah hurt himself in his sleep.”  
  
He hated witches, he did. Yet his heart dropped at the news. “Bad enough to go to the hospital?”  
  
“Yeah,” Gavin replied, lips in a grim line. “Now can’t you drive faster?”  
  
Hank drove a little over the limit, but was also very aware of his thick disciplinary file. Gavin was restless in the seat next to him, fidgeting with a leather bracelet he wore, checking his phone every couple of minutes as if he might not have heard it go off.  
  
They turned onto the street the hospital was on, and Gavin shot up in his seat. “Pull over, there’s Connor.”  
  
Connor wasn’t alone, he was with a pretty redhead, and they were walking together, away from the hospital. Gavin shoved open the door before the car was even in park, and Hank felt compelled to follow.  
  
“How is he doing?” Gavin asked, holding out his arms, and Connor went directly into them. Hank a step back could see the way that Connor’s fingers clenched in Gavin’s jacket. Gavin murmured something to Connor, too low for Hank to hear.  
  
Hank glanced at the redheaded woman. She didn’t look as though she’d been prepared to go out, her blue shorts had white polka-dots, and her t-shirt was sizes too big. There was blood on both. She glared at him.  
  
“The doctor says he will be okay,” Connor said, taking a step back. “We were lucky to have got to him so fast.”  
  
Connor’s pajamas had blood on them as well. Hank didn’t need specifics to know whatever had happened was bad. “Why don’t we go to the coffee shop in the hospital, you look like you could use the caffeine,” Hank suggested.  
  
“I can’t,” Connor sobbed, and Gavin pulled him back into his arms.  
  
The woman’s magic flickered to life, less of the smoke the Arkay brothers had, this was flames, flickering over her fingers, casting their own glow.  
  
“North,” Gavin ground out her name, and gave his head a sharp shake.  
  
She glared at Gavin, but her hands clenched, and the flames were snuffed out. “Connor can’t go to a hospital, do you know how many people die there?” She crossed her arms. “You know he’s a necromancer, you inconsiderate asshole.”  
  
“North,” Gavin snapped, exasperated.  
  
“So you left Noah, another necromancer, alone in there?” Hank asked, raising a brow, too tired to be taking this kind of attitude from the woman.  
  
“Of course not,” North replied. “He’s with the apprentice.”  
  
“A child?”  
  
“No!” North looked about ready to tear her own hair out.  
  
“Markus is technically my apprentice, however he’s actually a few months older than me,” Connor said, taking a deep breath, and clearly struggling for control. “He takes over the coven if I am incapacitated in anyway, or in the event of my death. Children can be raised to be such, but there is always another adult who would step in until they are of age.” He almost sounded like his usual self, like reciting truths fortified him. He looked to Gavin. “What happened to your car?”  
  
“My apartment is four blocks from the precinct,” he replied with a shrug. “I decided to get some cardio in this morning.”  
  
Connor nodded. “We will have enough room in the car for you.” He then looked to Hank, it was a dismissal if he’d ever heard one.  
  
Hank frowned, it wasn’t that he’d grown to care about witches, or even one necromancer in particular (he hadn’t) it was just curiosity, not concern. It was getting closer to three am, he should be in bed by now. That was his priority, a mediocre few hours of sleep before starting his morning shift, not some witch. He didn’t say anything, just turned and got back into his car.  
  
Noah was going to be fine anyway, Connor said so himself. Maybe he just fell out of bed in his sleep and hit his head. Head wounds were always bleeders, they scared people, but it didn’t necessarily mean it was dangerous.  
  
He tried not to think of the fact that Connor hadn’t been able to remain in the hospital as he drove home. Noah had to be in quite the state if he’d been admitted, and Connor had just left him there.  
  
Not his problem.  
  
Hank drove through the city, pulled into his driveway, and vowed to forget that the night had happened. It didn’t concern him. _It didn’t._  
  
——  
  
Injured witches in general usually went to a witch who’d gone to medical school, they were few and far between, usually low leveled witches, and it took time to get access to them. In the event of an emergency, going to an ER was accepted, if frowned upon. Witches were discharged as soon as possible, which was how Noah ended up back home by the time the sun started to rise.  
  
There had been so many spirits in the hospital halls, that he’d held tight to Markus, kept his eyes shut as Markus had led him around the people who were alive. The spirits clung though, lingered, followed.  
  
While there were sigils painted under the floorboards by the entrance ways of the Coven house, it was a deterrent, but the spirits had piggybacked on Noah’s magic, outside of his control. A sickly woman followed him around. A man with track marks up his arm kept screaming insults and accusations. A little girl in a hospital gown laughed, and danced.  
  
Chloe left the house stating she had some things to do around her apartment, but it was a flimsy excuse, the timing all wrong. It was the excess of spirits in the coven house that caused dark circles under her eyes, and drained her of power as she dismissed them for short periods of time.  
  
Over the next week, when he would retreat to his own room, he always had someone following him. Usually Connor or Rhys, but when they were both at work it would sometimes be North, sometimes Markus, or Josh. He never had a moment alone. Even when he went to bed for the night, he had the indignity of having to share the bed with one of his brothers, usually Rhys- who was unaffected by the spirits he didn’t have the sight to see.  
  
It wasn’t terrible, but the double bed was too small for the way Rhys tended to sprawl. Not like Noah wasn’t any better with his fitful sleep, that led to rolling and twisting in the bed. Neither of them got a decent night of rest, and occasionally Noah would give up entirely, sitting up, but the motion would only prompt Rhys to try and stay awake too.  
  
The mirror in the second floor bathroom hadn’t been replaced yet. The room still had the lingering scent of bleach that they’d used to clean his blood out of the grout. There weren’t any razors left in the shower, or in the medicine cabinet, or under the sink. Noah had four days worth of facial hair, not that he grew it in particularly fast anyway, but it itched, and he didn’t like it, but he didn’t want to ask for his razor back either.  
  
He turned off the shower, and startled spotting another figure past the frosted glass. He slowly pulled the door open a bit, peeked around it. The man with track marks. Deceased. Noah reached out and grabbed his towel.  
  
“I saw you with her.”  
  
Noah didn’t respond, did a quick dry off, careful around the stitches, touching the raw skin made it ache. He wrapped the towel around his waist.  
  
“I saw you with her,” the man said once again, angrier this time.  
  
Noah tried to ignore him, walk past, the man reached out, went to grab his arm, and Noah felt a surge of panic. The hand went through him. He sighed in relief.  
  
Magic built, and he focused it on his hand, grabbing the man, pushing his magic. “Leave!” he snarled, and the spirit dissipated like a wisp of his own magic. He grabbed the edge of the sink, and held on, breathing through the moment of dizziness. Between Connor suppressing his power before he went to bed, and expelling what he had to dismiss the spirit, he was low on magic, or out of touch with it at least. The lack of sleep didn’t help. He fumbled to grab his toothbrush, and brushed his teeth.  
  
A couple of bangs on the door. “I need the shower, jackass.”  
  
He reached over, and unlocked the door.  
  
Rhys walked in, hung his towel, and grabbed his own toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet. “You mind making breakfast?” he asked grabbing the cinnamon toothpaste that only he and North used.  
  
Noah spat out the foam. “French toast?”  
  
Rhys gave a garbled affirmative as he brushed.  
  
Connor darted past them, a towel around his waist, and jumped into the shower, throwing his towel over the top, the water turned on.  
  
“What the fuck? I was going in next!” Rhys complained.  
  
“I’m late!” Connor replied.  
  
“You got the room with an ensuite!”  
  
“And you know the drain is all messed up and I haven’t had time to get someone in to fix it!”  
  
Rhys’s lip curled. He walked over and flushed the toilet.  
  
A momentary change in the sound of the spray and Connor screeched, the sound of a bottle hitting the floor followed. “You asshole!”  
  
“I’m going to flush the toilet every three minutes that you’re not out of there,” Rhys said. “Tick-tock.”  
  
Noah grinned, and left the twins to fight. He was nearly out of clothes, and needed to do laundry, but did a blind grab of one of Rhys’s shirts, and hurried to his own room with it. He got half-dressed, and grabbed Rhys’s shirt that he’d tossed on his bed.  
  
A soft blue tank top with a tiny knife motif.  
  
He dropped it and took a rushed few steps back, nearly tripping in his haste. He hissed out a curse, grabbed it from the floor and threw it into the trash bin under his desk. Maybe he’d be accused of stealing it at one point, but he couldn’t stand to look at it.  
  
He left his room shirtless, Connor’s door just shutting, so Rhys was in the shower. He ducked into Rhys’s room, grabbed a different graphic tank. Once on, he pulled it away from his body to read the slogan; ‘ain’t no lie, bi, bi, bi.’ Noah snorted, and knew he’d be called out pretty fast for the shirt stealing.  
  
North was already in the kitchen when he walked in. She was watching something on her tablet with a frown on her face. “Everything okay?” he asked, opening the fridge and pulling the eggs and butter out.  
  
She sighed. “Just a piece I’m trying to work on, but my boss wants me to work on this farmer’s market bullshit.” The screen darkened and she set it gently aside.  
  
“What’s the piece you want to do?” Noah asked. They’d spent years as friends, but their contact had fallen apart after her breakup with Rhys, and her departure from the Stern Coven. “And do you want French Toast?”  
  
“If you’re making it, sure,” she replied with a grin. “You want any help?”  
  
“Do you mind making a pot of coffee?”  
  
As North cleared out the old filter, he inquired again. “So what is it you want to write a piece on?”  
  
She took a deep breath. “Witches have been going missing in Michigan for the better part of the last six months. No one wants to look into it. The police say that the witches just left- or that it’s a witch problem. In fairness, we do have laws that allow us to police ourselves, but we don’t have the resources to go finding people.”  
  
“Tracking spells?”  
  
“They don’t come up with anything.”  
  
Noah frowned. “Then it’s likely they’re dead.”  
  
“Or in a place with some pretty dark sigil work.”  
  
“Grimoires with those kinds of sigils were locked up, or burned two hundred years ago,” Noah replied dismissively. “If they hadn’t, you don’t think they would have ended up on the Internet or something?”  
  
“A lot of families kept their Grimoires,” North argued. “Plenty were pissed with plain-bloods and the attempt at unification. There are probably more than we’d like to acknowledge in someone’s private Coven library.”  
  
That was a terrifying thought. He started cracking eggs over a bowl. “Have you tried talking to Gavin about it?”  
  
“He says if a witch goes missing in his jurisdiction, and if that coven is willing to work with him, that he’d do what he can.” North took a glance down the hall before grabbing Rhys’s expensive coffee and dumping some of the beans into the grinder. “I know Gavin would give it his best, but he’s got a lot of red tape, and no victims in this area. Even if a witch went missing around here, a lot of covens wouldn’t trust him.”  
  
Noah dumped some cinnamon in with the eggs, and just a pinch of icing sugar before he started to break the yolks with a fork. “And the Motor City Daily doesn’t want to run your piece?”  
  
“It’s witch specific. I’ve even had covens refuse to talk to me because they don’t want to show weakness.”  
  
“It’s been a long time since we’ve been actively hunted.”  
  
“These people are either missing, and suffering, or dead,” North said, slamming a clean filter into the machine. “And no one is trying to find them.”  
  
It was a heavy thought.  
  
Simon came inside with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Good morning!” he greeted them cheerfully.  
  
“Want French Toast?” Noah asked. “There should be enough?”  
  
“No thanks.” He checked watch on his wrist. “I’ve got to get a shower before work.” He opened the fridge, grabbed an apple, and went down into the basement.  
  
Josh rushed up the stairs, grabbed his keys off the hook, looked outside and groaned. “North, your car is behind mine.”  
  
North finished up with the coffee prep, then grabbed her own keys. “Tell Connor we need a wider driveway.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Noah said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t have a drivers license, it wasn’t his problem.  
  
He got the first batch of thick sliced bread soaked, and on the skillet. Turned around and froze. A woman stood in front of him, her skin loose on her bones, skin grey and blue, dark purple under her eyes. “Would you call the doctor?” she asked. “I need a doctor.”  
  
He reached out, magic twisted around his fingers, up his wrist as he took her hand gently. “I’m sorry, you’re dead.”  
  
She blinked, her eyes foggy. “You can see me.”  
  
“I can,” he replied. “I’m a necromancer.”  
  
“I want to go home.”  
  
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I have children. Two boys. They’re three and five.” She looked up at him as though he might hold her salvation. “Please, I want to go back to my boys. They need their mother.”  
  
He felt for her, his heart ached. “I’m sorry. There is nothing I can do. You need to let go, and move on.”  
  
“I want my boys!” She shrieked, and he pulled his hand back.  
  
“You need to leave here.”  
  
“You have to help me! Please. My boys! Why won’t you help me?” Her voice raised in volume, and he could feel her spirit pulling on his magic. “You monster! Why won’t you help? Help me!”  
  
“I can’t, I can’t help you.” Another step back, and he hit the counter. “I’m sorry.”  
  
The spirit was gone as suddenly as she’d appeared. Connor stood in her space, hand about level where her shoulder would have been, echos of his magic dissipating. He frowned, and grabbed Noah by the elbow guiding him over to the nearest stool at the island.  
  
North came back in. “What’s burning?”  
  
Connor rushed over to the skillet, attempted to save the toast. He scraped at the bread, and grimaced “Looks like you might want to choose cereal.”  
  
North’s hand was light on Noah’s shoulder, and he looked up at her. “Are you okay?” She’d never been subtle, she looked right at his wrist.  
  
“I’m fine,” Noah replied, wishing it was the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

The crime scene was a bloody one. Hank figured the crime scene investigators were going to have a hell of a time swabbing samples. There were three bodies, bullet casings everywhere, and blood spatter in unlikely places. A goddamn mess.    
  
“Looks like a drug den,” Gavin said, as he stepped into the kitchen. “The back bedroom has an easy fifty-grand worth of product.”  
  
“Red Ice?”  
  
“Yep,” Gavin held up his gloved hand with a little sample strip that had turned bright pink. Positive for Red Ice.  
  
They worked the scene for a while longer, knowing they’d have to wait for results on a few blood samples, and finger print scans. They ended up at a deli in the meantime, trying to fit in a meal before they had to get back to the grind.  
  
“How’s Noah?” Hank asked. He’d managed to go over a week swallowing the question every time it rose to his lips. Gavin seemed fine, so it couldn’t be too bad.  
  
“He’s alright.” Gavin thanked the worker, grabbed his sub, and the two of them sat down at one of the back tables.  
  
“What happened?” Hank asked. The image of Connor and North in blood stained clothes had been haunting him for days.  
  
Gavin licked some mustard off of his thumb, looking off to the side for a second. “It isn’t my place to say.”  
  
Hank had to respect that kind of loyalty, and didn’t push. They ate mostly in silence, broken up by the occasional theory on the case.  
  
For the rest of the day they worked the case. No witnesses- or at least, no one in the neighbourhood was talking. The evidence was inconclusive, all of the blood went back to their three victims. The fingerprints weren’t in the database. For now, they were out of leads, and at the end of the day, went their separate ways.  
  
Sumo was happy to see him when he got home. There was a little note about what a good boy Sumo had been from his dog walker. He scratched Sumo behind the ears and went into the kitchen, followed by the large dog. While he didn’t want to cook, he but was hungry enough to at least throw some bacon and eggs into a frying pan, and sip on a beer while he waited for it to cook.  
  
He flipped the bacon, trying to avoid the spitting grease, and Sumo crawled a bit closer. “Want to go outside, Sumo?” A stupid question when he was making bacon. There was no chance the dog would leave his side.  
  
When the food was cooked he piled it onto his plate, and sat down with his beer at the table. He always missed Cole, but it was at times like this where his absence was most notable. His presence, three years later, was still missed at the table. Cole who would be excited about ‘breakfast for dinner.’ Cole would fill the quiet by talking about his day, or his comic books, or about Sumo, sitting right across from Hank like he always did.  
  
A witch killed his son.  
  
He swallowed the beer down, and ate dinner in silence.  
  
——  
  
The entire coven was crammed into the living room. Noah loved it, the bright happy auras, the laughter and familiar voices.  
  
Everyone argued over what movie to watch. North was holding onto some shoot-’em-up movie, Chloe was arguing for an indie horror, Josh had a documentary (that everyone quickly shot down,) Simon had a recently released romantic comedy. Sides were being taken. Markus was supporting North. On principle alone Rhys was supporting Simon- he hadn’t sided with North on anything since their breakup.  
  
Realizing there was no hope for his choice, Josh supported Chloe’s movie putting them back at a three way tie.  
  
Noah caught the way Connor looked over at him before returning his eyes to his tablet. “The comedy.”  
  
“Yeah, the rom-com,” Noah agreed. He didn’t need to watch people getting shot, or some twisted horror- his life was enough, thank you very much.  
  
North rolled her eyes. “Lame.”  
  
Chloe flopped back dramatically in her sheep pajamas, clutching the DVD case to her chest. “I paid sixteen dollars plus shipping and handling for this.”  
  
“I’ll watch it with you later, you over-dramatic dork,” Rhys promised, throwing a piece of popcorn at her head, which got stuck in her hair.  
  
“Rhys!” she picked it out, and threw it back, he managed to catch it in his mouth, and resettled in his spot on the floor. Everyone had brought in pillows and blankets, and while there were limited spots on the couch, the floor was preferred by a few anyway.  
  
Simon got back into his spot after putting the movie in. They watched the promos, shouting loud opinions on which ones looked good, and which ones looked terrible.  
  
Noah, who was sitting on the floor, leaned his head against Connor’s knee. It was nice, the sense of closeness, the easy nature of their coven- not stifling and proper as the Stern Coven had been, but this was _family_. Connor touched his shoulder, magic slipping along before retreating.  
  
The movie was predictable, but entertaining, and funny. When it ended, everyone picked up their pillows, and blankets slowly made their way to their rooms. When Noah went to get up, Connor’s firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He’d also managed to get his twin to stick around with nothing more than a look.  
  
With the other’s gone, Rhys dropped down onto a free spot on the couch, careful not to spill his glass of soda. “What is it?”  
  
Connor ran a hand over his chest, like he was smoothing out a tie he wasn’t wearing. “I wanted to talk to the two of you about something.”  
  
Noah sat up a little straighter, turning to get a proper look at Connor. “Well? What is going on?”  
  
“I want to ask Gavin to marry me.”  
  
Rhys choked on his drink, sputtering and setting it aside. “You want to what now?”  
  
Connor’s jaw took on that stubborn set that indicated nothing would move him. “I want to ask Gavin to marry me.”  
  
“Look, you guys make a great couple. I even _like_ Gavin, but don’t you think you’re moving a little fast?” Rhys asked. “You guys have known each other, what? Five, six months?”  
  
“I love him.”  
  
“That’s what Disney princesses say to justify their stupid decisions, Con!”  
  
“I think it’s a good idea,” Noah said.  
  
“By the Goddess,” Rhys ran his hands over his face. “Seriously?”  
  
“He loves Gavin, they’re together more often than they’re not,” Noah replied. “A handfasting would tie him officially to the coven, there are certain protections that come with that.”  
  
“I brought him back from the dead,” Connor whispered. “And after what happened a couple of months ago- if he’d fallen worse on those stairs, or if that criminal had a gun-” Connor shut his eyes, like he couldn’t bear the thought. “I have lived my entire life with death looming over everything, and I don’t want to waste my life, my time with Gavin hoping that we’re those people who make it to old age.” He finally looked at Rhys, hand over his heart. “I want to live the rest of my life with him, and I don’t care to wait until a time frame in which others find appropriate.”  
  
Rhys held his hands up in defense. “Okay, chill out. You know I’ll back your decision.”  
  
The lines in Connor’s face softened. “He’d be officially part of the coven, despite being a plain-blood. Do you think the others would be okay with that?”  
  
“No one has said anything about Gavin being here yet,” Rhys noted.  
  
“They all have plain-blooded friends,” Noah pointed out. “This isn’t a coven that is divided by older traditions.”  
  
“Amanda would not be pleased,” Rhys whispered like it mattered.  
  
“Amanda isn’t our House Mother any more,” Noah replied. The shadows in the room were swaying, but he wasn’t sure if he was the one doing it, or if it was Connor. They were all quiet for a moment, Noah could see the deep, murkiness clinging to Rhys’s aura his mood troubled. He tapped Connor’s knee. “So, do you have a ring?”  
  
Connor smiled softly. “Of course I do.”  
  
“Well,” Rhys dug his toes into the underside of his twin’s ribs, and Connor squirmed away. “Show us!”  
  
——  
  
It was unlike Gavin to be late. One could say a lot of shit about that detective, and still be accurate, but no one could fault his punctuality. So when the minutes slipped by their official start time, and Gavin still wasn’t there, it made Hank concerned.  
  
Three minutes, four minutes, five-  
  
Hank tapped his pen on his desk, waiting. He wondered, if something had happened at the coven house. He wondered if Noah had another sleep-walking incident, or- the blood on Connor and North came to mind, and he glared at his computer screen.  
  
It was probably just traffic, Gavin had probably spent the night at the coven house rather than his apartment which was closer to the precinct. Things happened. Sometimes people were late.  
  
Eight minutes. Nine-  
  
Gavin basically came running in, threw his knapsack under the desk and sat down heavily in his chair. “Car trouble,” he said. A perfectly reasonable excuse, Hank might even be believable if Gavin hadn’t been avoiding eye contact, and his ears weren’t burning red.  
  
“Sounds like bullshit, but I don’t care enough to ask the real reason,” Hank replied dryly. “We have a case.”  
  
“What do we got?” Gavin asked, shifting his chair to see around their monitors.  
  
“Fowler’s given us a stake-out.” A half-hearted shrug. “Short staffed.”    
  
Gavin groaned, but stood. “Let’s get to it then.”  
  
They walked out into the parking lot only to be stopped by Officer Tina Chen coming in. “Gav!” she shouted, stopping them as she jogged over. “Let me see it.”  
  
“I sent you a picture,” Gavin replied, a little tense.  
  
“I want to see it in person,” she grabbed his hand, and on his left ring finger was a black tungsten band, the metal cut in such a way there was a cross- no, a star, and in the center a diamond. “Oh, goddamn.” She turned his hand this way and that. “This is real nice! I can’t believe you’re engaged!”  
  
Gavin’s gaze hardened when he looked at Hank, like he was expecting to catch some flack for it, and was prepared for a fight.  
  
“You and Connor got engaged?” Hank said, sounding far less surprised than he felt. Sure, they’d been going out a while, but it seemed sudden.  
  
“Yeah. Got a problem with it?” Gavin snapped.  
  
Did he? “I don’t give a shit. We have a job to do. Move it, or I’m leaving without you.” He continued his way to the car. He heard Gavin and Tina a moment longer, too quiet to actually make out what they were saying, then Gavin hurried to catch up.  
  
They’d driven halfway through town, and relieved the previous officers on the stake out. He’d briefed Gavin about the high level drug dealers they were to be watching out for. Gavin adjusted his seat back a bit, and flipped through the file they’d been given.  
  
The engagement ring caught in the light. “So, you’re engaged,” Hank said knowing they’d be stuck in the car together for hours, so they might as well make conversation to keep the boredom at bay.  
  
Gavin smiled, softer and more serene than Hank had ever seen the detective. Gavin’s thumb toyed with the band. “Yeah.”  
  
He knew the proper response to something like this was a ‘congratulations,’ but he couldn’t get the word past his lips.  
  
“He wants to throw an engagement party,” Gavin said, his eyes on the door of the building they were watching. “Apparently these events are big for witches? I don’t know. Sounds like a waste of time and money, but-” Gavin shrugged. “You should come.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Come on- Connor made me come up with a guest list-”  
  
“Already?” Hank said. “When is this thing?”  
  
“Beginning of next month,” Gavin huffed out a breath. “My guest list is on the light side. I spend the majority of my time with your ass, you should be there.”  
  
“Still going to pass.”  
  
“Free food.”  
  
Hank tapped a beat on the steering wheel, attempting to ignore Gavin.  
  
“Noah is actually a really good cook.”  
  
That caught Hank’s attention, even when he didn’t want it to. Noah had frequented his mind since the day he’d found the man sleepwalking in the rain. “The food better be good.”  
  
Gavin sat up straighter, tossing the folder into the back seat. “Look alive, that’s our guy.”  
  
____  
  
Soft classical played out of the speakers on his dresser, but even that had become too loud. At his drafting desk, Noah attempted to focus on the illustrations for the children’s book he’d been contracted for. He carefully inked the fluffy little monsters he’d sketched out.  
  
The screaming was a distraction. The sobbing wasn’t any better. From the corner of his eye he saw the shadows spread past their natural barriers, clawing over walls, dimming the light. Working under such conditions was futile. He put his pen down, and took a deep breath. The man with track marks down his arm had returned, so had the woman sobbing at him to let her reunite with her children. They spoke over one another, accusations, requests, and insults.  
  
He rubbed his temples. There were deadlines to meet, but he couldn’t focus. He stood, ignored the way the man screamed at him, magic swirling around his hands, wrist, arms. He grabbed the man’s forearm, and shoved his magic through him, dismissing the spirit for a time. Noah turned to the woman, and she backed away from him.  
  
“Please, I just want to go home. Why won’t you help me?” she sobbed. “I just want to hold my boys again!”  
  
His jaw clenched, but he grabbed her by the arm, and shoved his magic through her too. She vanished with the magic.  
  
His temples were throbbing with the pain, his head ached so bad he could feel it in his teeth. Shadows spread over the windows, dimming the mid-day sun.  
  
He walked over to the bathroom, and splashed some cool water on his face before making his way downstairs, and into the kitchen. Opening the cabinet which they kept various spell ingredients, and typical medications, he froze. No painkillers, no sleep aids, or cold medicines. No pills of any kind.  
  
It was like the missing razors in those first days after his episode. He hadn’t even used a razor, but Connor had been resolute in his decision. He’d been shaving under supervision for a while, and finally Connor just insisted he give the razor back when he was done. It was stupid, but it seemed to bring Connor some semblance of peace, so he followed along.  
  
But now all the pills were missing, and he was in the early stages of a migraine.  
  
There were still some essential oils, and he rubbed a couple drops of lavender above his lips, inhaling it deeply, praying it would at least keep the pain from getting worse.  
  
He couldn’t be bothered trying to figure out where his brothers had hidden the pills, and knew that calling them wouldn’t do any good. He couldn’t even get someone else, someone more trustworthy, to administer the medication- most were working, and Chloe was out on a date with Elijah.  
  
The shadows pitched violently to the right, and he grabbed hold of the counter, breathing through the wave of dizziness it brought. Looking over his shoulder, he noted that the drapes in the living room were closed, and being that it was closer than his own room, he shuffled toward it, keeping his hand on the island for balance for as long as he could. He laid down on the couch, head on one of the decorative pillows Chloe had insisted upon.  
  
“Are you sick?”  
  
He groaned and opened his eyes. The little girl who’d followed him from the hospital stood there. Of the three spirits that were clinging to him, she was the easiest to manage, when she was around, she mostly spent her time twirling around and dancing. He couldn’t bear to dismiss her, besides, her aura wasn’t muddied, she didn’t have markers of anger or fear.  
  
“Just a little,” he whispered, wincing at his own voice.  
  
“Where is your mommy?” She tilted her head, big brown eyes staring at him. “My mommy always makes me feel better.”  
  
He thought of Amanda. She might have helped, she might have also told him to be stronger than his pain. “She’s not here.”  
  
“I’ll stay with you until your mommy comes,” the little girl said, sitting on the floor and watching him.  
  
“You don’t have to, isn’t it time for you to go?” he asked.  
  
She smiled sadly. “I’m waiting for a friend.”  
  
Noah couldn’t keep up the conversation anymore, his arm draped over his eyes wishing the pain would ease up. The little girl remained silent, and he didn’t bother to check if she was still there.  
  
The cold, wet cloth on his forehead woke him. It felt nice, and he opened his eyes. One of the twins sat on the couch near his hip. Noah didn’t usually have a problem telling them apart, but his head still ached. The muddied aura wasn’t any help, but he knew his brother was concerned.  
  
When his brother spoke it was garbled, like Noah was underwater. Frustrated he rubbed his ears a little.  
  
“If you’d just cut a little deeper-”  
  
“What?” Noah stared, horrified.  
  
“I asked how’s your head?”  
  
“That’s not-that’s not what you said,” he sat up, shoved the blanket off his lap, not even sure when it had been put there.  
  
“Noah?” His arm was grabbed, and he pulled away from his brother, standing and taking a step away from him.  
  
“Don’t!” He grimaced at his own voice, the shouting made his head worse.  
  
Someone came to the doorway, the other twin. They were identical, but he’d always been good at telling them apart, why couldn’t he now?  
  
“Hey,” the one in the doorway said. “You need to calm down.”  
  
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Noah snapped, magic flowing.  
  
“They’re your brothers,” the voice was soft to his left.  
  
“Shut up,” he snapped, turning to see no one.  
  
The twins were looking at each other. Mirrored looks of fear and concern, their auras alight with it.  
  
A hand touched the back of his neck, and powerful magic flowed into him. Connor. Rhys frowned in the doorway. “Let’s go lay down,” Connor said, his eyes a little off colour- something that happened when actively using the second sight. “I’ll temper your magic, and Rhys will make some tea, okay?”  
  
“I’m losing my mind,” Noah whispered, his throat tight. He’d looked for the voice that had spoken, but there was no one else in the room- not living nor dead. Connor must have come to the same conclusion. He was hearing things he shouldn’t. “I’m running out of time.”  
  
“No,” Connor’s voice was hard, and left no room for argument. “You’re going to be fine, you’re not running out of time.”  
  
“You know what happens to a Nines, Con,” Noah replied, his throat tight with his growing panic. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Ignoring it doesn’t make it less true.”  
  
“Let’s go lay down, okay,” Connor said, voice thick with emotion. “I’ll worry about the rest. You’re going to be fine.”  
  
Connor had always been a point of comfort, more so than Amanda had ever been. Connor not only told him things would be okay, but actively sought ways to make it so. The familiarity of Connor’s magic curling within him had him relaxing into the touch.  
  
“Come on,” Connor said. He followed Connor’s guidance, up the stairs and into his bedroom at the end of the hall. “What were you dreaming about?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Noah replied, trying to grasp at the wisps of nearly forgotten dreams. “A garden, I think.”  
  
“Was it a nice dream?”  
  
He sat down on his bed. “I think so.”  
  
“Is there anything specific you remember?”  
  
“They’re just dreams.”  
  
Connor sat down next to him. “Humour me?”  
  
“A big tree, a maple, or maybe an oak.”  
  
Connor sighed. “Anything else? You remembered more when…”  
  
Noah brushed his thumb along the delicate skin of his own wrist. “When I cut myself. That dream was different, it was so real.” It was only when he awoke and looked back that he could find the holes in the dream logic.  
  
“What did you think I said earlier, when I woke you?”  
  
Noah didn’t want to give Connor any more reason to worry. “I don’t remember. I must have still been half-asleep.”  
  
It didn’t look like Connor believed him, but the door was toed open by Rhys who managed to balance three cups of tea on saucers, and that ended the line of questioning.  
  
“Pajama party time?” Rhys said setting their cups down on the night table. It was said sarcastically, but they all ended up getting changed while the tea cooled and the twins returned to Noah’s room.  
  
“Drink up,” Rhys said, passing a teacup over to Noah.  
  
“Thanks.” It was warm, and sweetened a little with honey. His head still ached, but his sleep would hopefully be deep, and unbothered after being tempered by Connor.  
  
A soft two taps on the door, and Gavin poked his head in. “Hey. Josh said this is where I would find you.”  
  
The murkiness of Connor’s aura suddenly shifted into something blinding and pink. “Welcome home,” he beckoned his fiance into the room, and Gavin leaned down to give Connor a kiss.  
  
“Gross,” Noah said, as Rhys made horrible gagging sounds.  
  
Connor glared at his brothers. “You two are honestly the worst.” He then returned his attention to Gavin. “I’ll be to bed soon.”  
  
Gavin nodded. “Alright,” he gave a slight wave. “Good night.”  
  
“Good night,” Noah replied.  
  
“Sweet dreams,” Rhys said with fake sweetness. “And check your bed for newts!”  
  
“Ha, ha, fuck you, Rhys,” Gavin replied without heat, and he shut the door behind himself.  
  
Noah leaned into Rhys. “Did you put a newt in his bed?”  
  
“Where the fuck would I get a newt?” Rhys scoffed. “If I knew, I would.”  
  
“You would not,” Connor said. “That is _my_ bed.”  
  
Rhys just sipped his tea, no promises made. Noah put his empty cup down on the saucer, and set it on the night table where it was soon joined by those of his brothers.  
  
They didn’t speak as they prepared, they didn’t need to. Noah laid down on his back, tried to push down the anxiety. Connor wouldn’t hurt him, but his magic didn’t want to be tempered, to be boxed up and surrounded by Connor’s.  
  
Rhys laid down next to him, even though if there was any night where he was likely to sleep right through it was the nights when his magic was locked away.  
  
Connor placed a hand on his chest, the other on his temple. The magic bombarded his system, and his magic lashed out against it. The shadows in the room shifted, but the darkness he hadn’t even realized he’d created started to fade. He could feel Connor’s magic, his power, and that which had been bestowed upon him from the coven, all that magic pushing, pushing, pushing, wrapping around his own magic tight.  
  
His eyes grew heavy as his body was locked off from something that was every bit as important as his blood, his breath- he was a witch. It was unnatural, sickening to think of being without his magic, regardless of how dangerous. There were tales of sigils that could lock away a witches power, sigils in old, dark grimories; but most witches couldn’t live without their magic, and slowly succumbed to death.  
  
That knowledge sometimes made Noah afraid to have his magic tempered, sometimes he was afraid that the heaviness of his eyes came from death, and not sleep. He trusted Connor though, his sight, his magic.  
  
And this time, when his eyes drifted shut, there were no dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Gavin's engagement party.

For the life of him, Hank couldn’t figure out why he’d agreed to attend the engagement party. Gavin was his work partner, and maybe he had to begrudgingly bestow the man with the rank of ‘friend,’ but going to a coven house full of witches? Above and beyond the call of duty.   
  
And yet, he’d still trimmed his beard, and tied his hair up for the occasion. He dressed in a suit he only had for funerals. Considering how expensive the invitation had looked, it would likely be a formal affair. Gavin had mentioned having to go shopping with Connor for something appropriate to wear.   
  
Hank couldn’t find the one tie he owned, but he did have a bow-tie that had been hanging with the suit, a clasp at the back so he couldn’t fuck it up. He fumbled with the clasp until it was in place, adjusted the collar of his white button up, and glanced in the mirror.   
  
“Fuck, I look like I should be serving hor d’oeuvres,” he muttered to himself. It was too late to rent a nicer suit, he needed to be leaving soon- he hoped he could be in and out before too many people arrived. He glanced at his dog lazing on the bed. “I could just stay home. What do you think Sumo?”   
  
The dog’s right ear twitched at the mention of his name.   
  
“You’re no help.”   
  
By the time he arrived at the coven house, he didn’t feel any better about his state of dress, nor about his attendance. He had to park nearly a block down, the street already lined with cars on both sides, and the lawn even had half a dozen cars parked on it too.   
  
He could only imagine how Gavin was handling being the center attention. There had been a time when they were both solidly anti-witch. He’d heard about the witch who’d murdered multiple people in a bid for power, but it wasn’t until he’d been partnered with Gavin that he discovered that his mother had been one of the victims. It was why Hank couldn’t quite believe that Gavin was engaged to a witch.   
  
There was a lovely blonde man standing by the fence. He wore a striking midnight blue suit with a boutonniere of some dainty flower Hank couldn’t name. While Hank didn’t know much about fashion, the suit the man wore looked expensive and formal, and Hank was glad he hadn’t just come in jeans.   
  
The man smiled at him. “Hello, I take it you’re here for Connor and Gavin’s engagement.”   
  
“Uh, yeah.”   
  
“Name, please?”   
  
“Hank. Er, Anderson.”  
  
The man checked the list on the same expensive looking parchment the invitations had been printed on. “Excellent. Most of our guests are enjoying appetizers in the back gardens, however, you’re welcome in the house, the choice is yours.” The man pushed open the gate. “Enjoy the party, Lieutenant.”   
  
“I didn’t catch your name,” Hank said, police brain still trying to take in every bit of information.   
  
“I’m Simon,” he replied.   
  
Hank gave him a nod, and then walked past the fence. It wasn’t as though he’d never been on coven property before. He’d dropped a concussed Gavin off there two months previous. He’d had to go to other covens for certain investigations even if it made his skin crawl.   
  
Gavin had said that Noah would be cooking. Instead of following the noise to the backyard, Hank opened the front door. Inside was chaos, half a dozen people moving around the kitchen, some with aprons, others stacking appetizers and taking them through the back of the house, another popped the cork on some champagne, and started to pour into the flutes.   
  
There were dishes on nearly every part of the kitchen island, and Connor had an apron on over a rather eccentric green, blue filigree suit. He studied an index card, then looked into a pot on the stove. “That… is not right.”   
  
Hank froze in the doorway, considering retreating. The man with the champagne shot him a smile, and held out a glass. “Looks like you could use it.”   
  
“Thanks,” Hank took it. He’d rather have a beer, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Gavin is, do you?”   
  
“Last I saw, he was out back with Connor.” Confused, Hank glanced over at Connor, and the man laughed. “Oh, that’s not Connor.”  
  
Not-Connor, dumped a bunch of basil into the pot, and then looked at the recipe card. “Josh? Fix this!”   
  
Josh- the man who’d just given him the champagne, rolled his eyes, but walked over to stove in attempts to save the dish.     
  
Not-Connor abandoned his disaster, and grabbed a flute of champagne as he looked Hank over. A smirk on his face. “Well, well, well, you must be _Hank_.”   
  
Hank didn’t know what to make of his name being said like that, an edge, like a double meaning. “I am.”  
  
“Saved the best brother for last, I’m Rhys.” Connor’s twin offered his hand, and Hank figured he better not insult a witch in his home. He put his hand in Rhys’s, and was thankful he didn’t feel a lick of magic.   
  
“Is Gavin around?”   
  
“Oh, I’m sure we can find him.” He set his drink down, and took off the apron, tossing it over the back of a stool. He grabbed the drink, and chugged it down, before refilling.   
  
Hank raised a brow at that. “I thought champagne was supposed to be sipped.”   
  
“If I’m getting through today without theatrics, I will do it drunk, thank you very much.”   
  
“Not a fan of your brother’s decision?”   
  
Rhys raised a brow. “Hmm? Oh, you mean Gavin. Actually, he’s not bad. He makes Connor happy, which frankly is long overdue, and obviously something I’m in support of.”   
  
“So the drinking?”   
  
Connor’s twin smiled. “Mother is coming.” He tapped his glass against Hank’s.   
  
Hank found there to be something sinister in the way he said it, but his attention shifted the moment Noah entered the room. The light blue, long sleeved collared shirt he wore shifted attention to his eyes, and the grey slacks, and suspenders gave him a classic look. He hadn’t noticed Hank, immediately rushing to the stove. “I leave this for ten minutes and what did you do?”   
  
“Rhys did it, I’m trying to salvage it,” Josh complained.   
  
“Where is the alcohol?” North said her heels clicking as she stepped in the room. “Rhys how about you serve the champagne, rather than drinking it all.”  
  
Rhys glared at her. “Why don’t you do something rather than just ordering everyone around!”  
  
“Rhys, take the champagne out to the guests,” Noah said. “North, grab the appetizers,” he pointed to something wrapped in bacon on the island, already stabbed through with toothpicks, and on a fancy plate with grapes as garnish. “And Josh, make sure they don’t kill each other on the way out the door.”   
  
“Ha-ha, very funny,” Rhys chugged the rest of the champagne.   
  
However, with their orders from Noah, the three of them left and the kitchen became much quieter. Noah smiled at him. “Hello, Hank. You look… very handsome, if you don’t mind my saying.”   
  
Hank gave a dry laugh. “Well, I have to have something to wear to weddings and funerals.” A compliment in return was on the tip of his tongue, but it felt wrong. He had to remind himself that he was in a house of witches, speaking to a witch. “Do you think you can fix it?” he asked, pointing to the pot bubbling with sauce.   
  
“Maybe, but if not, there is still more than enough food.”   
  
“Yeah, saw those appetizers, they looked pretty fancy,” Hank said. He could compliment the food, food was a neutral ground. “Were you formally taught?”   
  
Noah frowned, and Hank realized at some point he’d misstepped. A timer went off, and Noah’s attention shifted to pulling more of those bacon things out of the oven. “Members of my previous coven taught me some of it. Some of it I picked up on my own.” He set the tray down on a cork board protecting the counter-top from the heat. “You should wait a few minutes if you want to try one, they get really hot in the center.”   
  
“What are they?”   
  
“Pineapple wrapped in bacon,” Noah replied. He leaned in a little. “The secret is the brown sugar on the top.” He grabbed two of the toothpicks that were jammed through them, put the two appetizers on a dainty little dish, and passed it to Hank. “Sweet, and savory.”   
  
“Thanks,” he replied, accepting the plate. “I should probably let you get back to it, and congratulate the couple.”   
  
“Of course,” Noah pointed down the hall. “The doors will take you out to the gardens.”  
  
Hank nodded.  
  
“Did you bring a flower?”   
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s customary at engagement parties.”   
  
“I didn’t know-”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Noah reached to the vases at the center of the island, and pulled out a long stemed red rose. “We burn flowers representing wishes we have for the couple. Red roses are classic romantic love, most common.”   
  
“Thanks,” Hank said, having to grab it with just his ring finger to keep hold of the plate and the flute of champagne. “So I just set it on fire?”  
  
“There is a fire pit outside,” Noah said, remaining in his space after handing over the flower. “You just toss it in.”   
  
“What flower are you planning on putting in?” he asked before he could nip his curiosity.   
  
“I already did. Myrtle flowers for prosperity, as well as luck and love in marriage.”   
  
“Well, thanks,” Hank said awkwardly.   
  
“You’re welcome,” Noah replied.   
  
“I should go congratulate the couple.”   
  
“Of course.” Noah wore a soft smile. “I’ll see you around.”   
  
Hank nodded and turned around. The short hallway had two staircases, one leading up, the other down into a basement. The hall itself led into the back room of the house that seemed to be mostly a dining room, but there were a few books on a shelf, as well as various jars of twigs, dried herbs, water, and feathers. In the center of the room was a long harvest surrounded by non-matching chairs, probably enough to sit an entire coven and purchased at a discount. Beautiful bouquets of flowers sat in a number of vases, artfully arranged. The drapes surrounding the large windows were tied back giving full view of the breathtaking gardens.   
  
Hank set his champagne down on the table, so he could get a hold of the pineapple wrapped in bacon, and took a bite. It was the singularly best thing he’d ever eaten, the juicy pineapple somehow complimented the salty sweet of the brown sugar on the bacon. He had half a mind to go back and pinch a few more before they went out to the other guests.   
  
Instead, he focused back on his task. All he had to do was burn a flower, then find Gavin, wish him and Connor the best, tolerate small talk for a few minutes, then make an excuse to leave early.   
  
Balancing the rose, glass, and plate, he managed to open one of the French doors, and stepped out onto the back deck. There were a few chairs which were taken by people he didn’t know. He scanned the yard. Stones outlined some of the gardens, flowers were in an absolute riot of colours, shapes, and textures. Large trees gave shade, but didn’t block out the mid-afternoon sun. There was a bit of a cobblestone path that wove around parts of the garden, and one branched off to a fire pit that was burning bright.   
  
Guests were dressed rather formally, even the few kids that were in attendance were dressed up. Odd though that none of them were playing. A little girl had her hands clasped in the glittery tulle of her dress. The little boy next to her was kicking his shoe into the grass, but only until the woman by him gave his shoulder a light tap, when he looked up, she shook her head.  
  
Soft jazz played, and it was actually an artist that Hank liked. He tapped his foot to the beat, and looked around for Gavin while he was eating the last appetizer.   
  
A petite blonde with tattoos walked up to him the moment he was done. “Allow me to take that for you,” she said, gesturing to the plate.   
  
“Oh, thanks.”   
  
She smiled. “You’re welcome.” She went off, collecting other appetizer plates, and empty glasses.   
  
Since he could see the fire, he figured he would start there. An older man in a suit was already there, and threw in a long fern leaf, he then walked on. Hank followed the man’s lead, throwing the rose in, stayed a second as it burned.   
  
He walked along the winding cobblestone until he spotted Gavin and Connor. Even at a distance he noticed that Gavin had shaved for the event. His partner wore a white collared shirt under a grey vest, and black slacks. Frankly, Connor must have had a hell of a time trying to get Gavin to even wear that. Most people knew Gavin adamantly hated formal wear, or perhaps more accurately, formal events.   
  
Connor on the other hand was dressed to impress. The navy suit had clearly been tailored to his form, and the subtle gold pinstripe kept him right on trend. The couple was talking to the young woman with tattoos who’d taken his plate. She touched Connor’s arm, as they both laughed, she then hugged Gavin tightly, careful with her own glass of champagne, before she was on her way, walking down the path.   
  
Since the couple wasn’t currently occupied, he figured it would be a good time to go over. Gavin gave an acknowledging nod on his approach. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey. Congrats,” he said. “The food is as advertised.”  
  
Gavin smiled at that. “Fuckin’ told you man.”   
  
“Gavin,” Connor drew out the man’s name like a warning. “Guests. Some of which are _children_.”  
  
Gavin took a quick look around. “They can’t hear me.”  
  
Connor looked skyward for a moment, before returning his attention to Hank.  “Thank you for coming, Lieutenant,” Connor said cordially. “We do appreciate it.” His phone made a small ‘ping’ noise, and he pulled it out, his expression darkening.   
  
“Everything alright?” Gavin leaned into closer to his fiance.   
  
Connor stared at his phone a second longer before locking the screen and shoving it back into his pocket. “Of course,” he replied smoothly, a soft smile in place. “Why don’t you show the Lieutenant around the gardens?”   
  
Gavin frowned, and grabbed Connor’s hand. “Con?”  
  
Connor’s facade broke down to a frown. “It’s Amanda, Simon just texted me that she’s arrived.” Connor leaned in, kissed Gavin like he needed his air to breathe, then rested his forehead against Gavin’s. “I doubt she’s here to congratulate us, my love.”   
  
“Then I’ll stay with you.”   
  
“No.” Connor shook his head. “No, she doesn’t get to hurt you. Please, show Hank the gardens.”   
  
“And what about you?” Gavin shot back.   
  
“Don’t worry,” Rhys said, coming up behind Hank, and pinching the half finished champagne from his hand. “Lover boy has backup.” And with that, he gulped down the last of Hank’s champagne, and gave him the empty glass back.   
  
“Really?” Connor shot his twin a dry look.   
  
“If I have to deal with our former mother, I’m doing it with a good baseline of alcohol.”   
  
Connor’s attention shifted, and he stood a little straighter. “There she is.” Exiting through the house was Noah, but there a woman was holding his arm, smoke and fog mixing where they touched. The sight of magic made his stomach twist into knots. Amanda was profoundly regal, the white suit made her stand out in the sea of muted greys, and bold pastels of the other guests. In her hand, a spring of some little white flowers.   
  
“Heather,” Connor muttered, as Noah escorted the woman over to the fire.   
  
“What does it mean?” Gavin asked as the three of them watched her burn her offering.   
  
“White heather is protection and good luck,” Connor said sounding pleased. “I half expected her to be petty and burn begonia, or tansy. Maybe she isn’t as angry with me as I expected.”    
  
Noah walked with Amanda toward them, and she smiled up at Noah, her arm still hooked around his. “It’s been so good to see you,” she reached up to push a lock of his hair back into style. “You are always welcome to visit, you know.” She sounded like a mother missing her children. Hank could relate. “I heard you had a little mishap,” Amanda continued, but her eyes cut to Connor. “Perhaps you left the nest a little early.”    
  
“I fell down the stairs,” Noah said. “It could have happened to anyone.”   
  
“Really? That’s not what I heard.” Her grip on his arm shifted, and her fingers dug into his wrist. A breath left Noah, and he jerked his arm away. “Oh, sorry darling, were you injured?”   
  
Rhys pushed Noah behind him, and he glared at Amanda. “You keep your fucking hands off of him.”  
  
“Rhys,” Connor said, low in warning.   
  
A warning that went ignored. “We aren’t yours anymore.”   
  
“Rhys, enough!”   
  
Amanda tilted her head back ever so slightly. “What was it your brothers always said? Ah, yes. Zero to sixty. Noah might be the more powerful brother, and yet, you’re the one who manages to cause the most problems.”   
  
Hank felt a bit of a chill, but Rhys’s shoulders had actually started to shake despite the fact that he was clearly trying to be still, unaffected.   
  
“Why don’t we all just cool it,” Hank said, not liking the situation at all. It looked about three wrong words from a domestic dispute.   
  
Amanda’s eyes were cutting as she looked him over. “And who are you?”   
  
“Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” he put his rank in, hoping it might help smooth things over. People tended to get nervous about the police.   
  
She scoffed, waved him off dismissively. Her attention turning instead to Gavin, and following their linked hands, to Connor. It didn’t matter what she burned, with that look in her eyes, she appeared to still hold resentment toward Connor for leaving. “So, this is your fiance?”   
  
Connor held tension in his shoulders and jaw, his eyes were fixated on Amanda though. “Yes.”   
  
“I raised you better than that, Connor.” She sounded disappointed. “Be polite, and give a proper introduction.”  
  
Connor’s eyes shifted to look at the ground, it only lasted a moment, but he could see how wounded Connor was by her- apparently none of the siblings were immune. Connor then looked to Gavin, and and stood a little straighter. “Gavin, this is Amanda Stern. Amanda, my fiance, Gavin Reed.”   
  
Amanda sighed. “A shame to put your family’s bloodline in the hands of Rhys.”   
  
Rhys looked ready to speak up again, but Noah elbowed him.    
  
“Are you staying for dinner?” Connor asked, clearly trying to direct the conversation elsewhere.   
  
“Well, I have been missing Noah’s cooking. You had the makings of an excellent chef,” she said, smiling sweetly at Noah. “And there are so many people in our extended community in attendance. I should catch up with them.” She turned and looked at the small crowd. “Where is North? I haven’t seen her since she left the coven.”   
  
“Stay away from her,” Rhys snarled, his hand flicking at the wrist.   
  
Amanda noticed, and gave a small shake of her head. “Had a little too much to drink?”   
  
“Fuck you,” he hissed.   
  
Magic had no problem surrounding her hands, like fog, and Hank could feel the chill of it. “Watch your tongue. You wouldn’t want to put Connor in a bad position during his own engagement party, now would you?”   
  
“I need to check on dinner,” Noah said, hand on Rhys’s shoulder like he feared it might come to blows. “Give me a hand.” If Hank hadn’t been paying such close attention, he might not have noticed the shift of Rhys’s eyes to Connor, who gave a subtle nod. With that, Rhys turned on his heel, and stormed off toward the house.   
  
Noah remained a moment longer, his head bowed slightly. “I apologize for Rhys, and I hope to have the chance to speak with you later.”   
  
Amanda smiled, cupped his face in her hands, and it made Hank want to physically remove them. “You were always my sweetest child. You should run along, Rhys shouldn’t be left unattended in a kitchen.”   
  
He nodded as he took a step back, paused when he made eye contact with Hank. “Are you staying for dinner, Hank?”   
  
As much as he’d wanted to just give his congratulations and leave, he had a feeling there was more going on just under the surface. The fact that Gavin had remained quiet was surprising- then again, Hank could also see the way Connor’s nails were digging in to the back of Gavin’s hand. The tense atmosphere made him more alert, and concerned. “After those appetizers? Yeah, I’m staying.”   
  
Noah’s soft genuine smile was far too beautiful, and left Hank wondering if he was having a heart attack. “I’m pleased to hear it, it won’t be much longer.” He left them then, walking down the pathway in the direction of the house.   
  
Amanda’s eyes followed Noah, until he entered the house. “Now, tell me, how is he?”   
  
Connor raised a brow. “Who?”   
  
“Don’t play dumb, Connor,” she said. “It’s not your strong suit. Noah, tell me how he is.”   
  
“He’s doing well.”   
  
“That injury-”  
  
“An accident,” Connor interrupted. “Like he said, a simple fall.”   
  
Hank recalled the blood on Connor and North, the fear, the desperate way Connor had hugged Gavin, and struggled for his usual control. It was more than a simple fall, and he knew it.   
  
Amanda raised a brow. “A fall that led him to the ER?”   
  
“Cracked the bone in his wrist on his way down.” A lie, Hank knew it was a lie. “An unfortunate situation.”   
  
She gave a thoughtful hum. “It sounds like the darkness is infringing.”   
  
Magic swirled around Connor’s hands, creeping over Gavin wrist. “He’s fine.”   
  
“He’s tempered, but your coven isn’t strong enough to keep his magic suppressed for long, now is it?” She smiled, as though that was what she wanted.   
  
“We do just fine, thank you.”   
  
“Well, when you realize your error, you are always welcome back home.”   
  
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I haven’t made a mistake.” Connor’s magic wove through his fingers, swirled around Gavin’s arm. “Like you said, playing dumb isn’t my strong suit.”   
  
Amanda smiled at that. “Very well, have it your way. I think I’ll make my rounds before dinner. We’ll talk later.” She turned away and Hank let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.   
  
When she was out of earshot, he turned to the couple. “She’s a fucking viper.”   
  
“What the actual fuck?” Gavin muttered. He also pulled his hand away from Connor’s, and Hank spotted the small crescent shapes in the back of his hand. “I get you didn’t want me to say anything, but if she says one more shitty thing to anyone I’m gonna.”   
  
“Don’t, Darling, I told you, I need to be the one to handle her,” Connor said, taking a deep breath. “I’m the head of this coven-”   
  
“So what? Didn’t stop Rhys-”  
  
“I tried-”  
  
“And what, am I to be seen and not heard.” Gavin’s nose wrinkled when his lip curled. “Which by the way, what’s with the kids around here?”   
  
“They are being taught control.”   
  
“By not playing?”   
  
“Gavin,” Connor’s tight control was slipping, tension bleeding into his voice. “We can have this conversation another time.”   
  
“Yeah, alright.” Gavin relented. “I’m going to get a drink, looks like I’ll need it. You want one?”   
  
“No,” Connor replied, glancing at his hands as the magic faded to nothing.   
  
“Hank, care to join me?” Gavin offered, and frankly Hank wished he’d left when he had the chance. Then he thought once more of Noah, and the soft smile- at the hands of that vulture of a woman, and got an uneasy feeling in his stomach.   
  
“Sure.” He and Gavin fell into step easily, they were used to working with one another over the past few years. “So, that was something.”   
  
“You’re telling me. Connor warned me about her a bit, and I know some of the shit she said, or did during their childhood that is _messed up_ , but hearing it and seeing it is just- fucking hell, what a piece of work.”   
  
“Felt like ten degrees colder with her around.”  
  
“Yeah, that was her magic.”   
  
“Seriously? Didn’t feel anything from Connor.”   
  
“You wouldn’t, his is… tingly? But only to the touch, it’s not really warm or cold, you wouldn’t feel it at a distance- at least, not unless he wanted you to.”   
  
“But they’re both necromancers.”   
  
“Doesn’t matter. Chloe’s a necromancer too, but hers feels like warm wind.”   
  
“What about Noah’s?” He asked, regretting the words once they left his mouth. He’d felt it before, a velvet caress on his skin.   
  
“He tries not to let people feel his magic, I’m not sure.” Gavin opened the door to the house.   
  
“Where is Tina? Or Chris? I thought they were attending.”   
  
“Chris had to work. Tina got off work just as this was starting, she’ll be here before dinner though. Saw Eli earlier, he’s around somewhere,” Gavin said, mentioning his cousin who worked in the morgue. Hank didn’t mind the guy, even if he was a little odd, he did good work.   
  
“Was that your entire invite list?” Hank asked.  
  
“Well, Fowler is away with his wife on that anniversary cruise, and my aunt… ah, couldn’t make it.”   
  
Hank could read between the lines though, he knew what happened to Gavin’s mother at the hands of a witch, it wasn’t surprising that her sister wouldn’t want to be in a house of them, even if her nephew was engaged to one.   
  
Gavin came to a sudden stop at the entrance of the hallway, and Hank nearly collided with him. They had a clear line of sight to the kitchen, where Noah was smiling looking down at his side, eyes focused on something- someone that wasn’t there.   
  
“Connor says there is a little girl who followed Noah home from the hospital,” Gavin whispered.   
  
“What?”   
  
“A dead girl, a spirit, she latched onto Noah’s magic, it’s what spirits do to necromancers,” he said. “She’s harmless. They don’t send her away like the others.”  
  
“Like the others?” Hank felt a chill down his spine at the implication of other spirits hanging around the house, unseen but there.   
  
Noah’s head tipped back when he laughed. “I would have liked to have seen that!”   
  
“Liked to have seen what?” Gavin asked, as he walked down the hall, and Hank forced himself to put one foot in front of the other.   
  
“To have seen them give the dog his first bath,” Noah replied, the smile still bright. “Sumo shook off and got his dad soaked.” He shot a smile right at Hank. “You didn’t tell me your son was here.”   
  
He felt dizzy. No. His son died years ago. Cole couldn’t be lingering here. He couldn’t. There had been a cold comfort in the fact that Cole was young, and children didn’t often linger after death, his son was resting in peace, in heaven, or in whatever came after death. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t still be here. From the corner of his eye he saw Gavin shake his head.  
  
The smile fell from Noah’s face, the man paled, eyes widening. “ _Oh no_.” Noah came closer, and Hank took a couple instinctive steps back. “Hank, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t know. I thought- I just- he-”  
  
“You’re lying,” Hank said, because he didn’t want to believe his son was some spirit, lingering after his death. He couldn’t bear the idea of his son trapped to this world and unable to be a part of it.  
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
“You’re lying.” Hank’s heart beat a mile a minute, he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. His lungs felt like they were constricting, he could hardly breathe.   
  
Noah’s expression shut off, and he lowered his head. “I was mistaken, my apologies.”   
  
“I have to go.” Hank shoved past Gavin, desperate for escape from the house.   
  
When he shoved open the door, and stepped outside, he still felt like he was suffocating. He grabbed the bowtie, yanking until the clasp came undone while putting as much space between himself and the coven house as possible.   
  
“Hank,” Gavin came running up beside him. “You okay to drive?”  
  
“Didn’t even finish my one drink, asshole.”   
  
Gavin grabbed Hank’s arm. “He didn’t know.”   
  
Hank pulled his arm free. “I don’t want to fucking hear it.” What he wanted was a bottle of whiskey.   
  
By the time he reached the gate, he realized that Gavin was no longer along side him. He didn’t look back. He needed a drink, to get blackout drunk, and put this entire mess behind him.   
  
————  
  
Dinner went over well, everyone complimented the food, guests mingled afterward. Noah felt rather detached from the events, his mind preoccupied with the pain he’d inadvertently caused Hank.   
  
Noah listened to Connor and Gavin as they gave their thank you speech. The music returned as setting sun sun casted a glow over the yard, and Gavin took Connor’s hand leading him out to the grass to dance. Some other couples joined in, swaying to the music with their loved ones. He could feel the magic of so many witches, see bits of the soft glow, or shifting shadows as it was casted.   
  
He noticed North in the mix, and to his surprise, she was dancing with Markus. He knew they were close, but there was something more in the way she tucked her face into his neck, their hands clasped together, their magic mingling. He also spotted Rhys who was pointedly looking away from them, a drink in hand.   
  
He couldn’t stand being idle anymore, and rose from his seat. He collected a couple of abandoned glasses on the railing of the deck, and brought them inside. Simon stood at the dining table, fingers gentle against the petals of a dying flower, his soft magic flowing around it, fortifying it.   
  
Simon glanced at him as the door swung shut. “Do you need help in the kitchen?”    
  
“No, it’s fine,” Noah forced a smile. He’d been tempered in the morning to avoid any displays of out of control magic, but he could already feel it building, pressing, creating cracks in the magical cage Connor had created. It was happening earlier and earlier. His power steadily outgrowing the coven.    
  
The kitchen was a small scale disaster, plates stacked, and an assortment of glasses covered the counter. After rolling up his sleeves, frowning at the sight of the scar tissue on his wrist, he put a stack of plates into the sink, and turned on the water. Dishes weren’t a chore he enjoyed doing, but it at least made him feel productive.   
  
Cole wasn’t around anymore. The little boy had appeared devastated by his father, and after Hank had accused Noah of lying and run out, Cole had gone too. Noah wished, not for the first time, that he was more like Connor- who had to focus on the sight in order to see spirits, or like Rhys, who was blind to them entirely.   
  
“Woah, what did those dishes do to you?” Rhys walked into the room, his jacket was missing from his ensemble. He twirled half around, and leaned back against the counter, next to the sink. In his hand, a glass of what Noah guessed was rum and Coke.   
  
Rhys’s comment made him realize he was scrubbing a little aggressively. “I just want to get them done.” He rinsed off the plate, and set it in the dry rack before grabbing another, being a bit more careful this time.   
  
“Svana’s here too,” Rhys said. A member of the Stern coven they’d grown up with. None of the brothers got along with her, but she was there through the extension of Amanda. “Saw a few others of our former coven. Could have gone longer without seeing them.”   
  
“Agreed,” Noah replied, rolling his shoulders, trying to work out the knot between them. Part of him enjoyed seeing Amanda again, the part of him that still wanted to please her, but overall he wished Connor hadn’t invited any of their former coven, but also understood that slighting Amanda could come back to bite them. Better to maintain the bridge than burn it.   
  
Rhys shoulder checked him, but lost his own balance a bit, wobbled, and righted himself with the counter for support. “Somethin’s off with you. What did that bitch say, huh?”   
  
He thought of Hank, and the horror in his eyes. “It’s not Amanda,” Noah replied, keeping his voice low.   
  
“Ah,” Rhys grinned. “You’re thinking of that Lieutenant you have a thing for.”   
  
“Shut up.”   
  
“It’s cute. I mean-”  
  
“Shut up,” he repeated. He regretted telling his brother about Hank during one of his sleepless nights where his restlessness had also awoken his brother. He’d told Rhys about the kindness Hank had shown when he’d first been out sleepwalking, and exhaustion loosened lips, and he _may_ have made mention of how handsome he looked when he came to drop off Gavin- which in turn had prompted Rhys to make kissing sounds.   
  
Connor might have let the mention of his crush go, but Rhys, he would hold onto it until the end of days. After all, Rhys had been the one trying to get him laid for no less than the past five years.   
  
“What happened?” Rhys prodded. “Come on, tell me, get it out of your system.”   
  
“He has a son.”   
  
“And you’re worried about?”   
  
Noah felt it, his power building, slipping through the cracks. Smoke mixed with the suds. “His son is dead, and I didn’t know.”   
  
“Oh.” Rhys frowned. “Oh, shit.”   
  
“Yeah, oh shit,” he repeated like it wasn’t the understatement of the year.   
  
Rhys downed the rest of his drink, and put the glass in the water. It might have been annoying, but he then grabbed a towel, and started to dry the dishes and put them away. “I take it he reacted badly.”   
  
“Called me a liar.”   
  
“Prick.”  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
“You’re not a liar-”  
  
“He lost his son who couldn’t have been more than seven. You know how people react to what we are. Sometimes, it’s easier to deny the reality than to admit their loved ones are still lingering.”   
  
“The kids seemed okay though?”   
  
“I didn’t notice he was dead, so, yeah, not some manic spirit needing to be dismissed.” He washed another glass, passed it to Rhys.   
  
“Gavin should have said something.”  
  
“What? Oh, Hank has a dead son, so heads up?” Noah rolled his eyes.   
  
“Yeah, something like that. Kids don’t usually stay around long, so he must have died recently. For fuck sake, Gav’s engaged to a necromancer, it’s something he should have mentioned.”   
  
Noah glared at his brother. “So, he should have just come in with a list of his guests, and their dearly departed? Don’t be ridiculous.”   
  
“Yeah, okay, point taken.” Rhys picked up one of the dainty plates, and set it on the stack of other dry ones. There was a large cabinet in the back room for the expensive set. “So, what are you going to do?”   
  
His hands paused in the soapy water. “Do?” He shook his head. “Nothing, I’m not going to do anything. You think he’s going to come back here? After today?”   
  
Rhys raised a brow. “You could go to him.”  
  
“Yeah, that’ll work out real well,” Noah replied laying the sarcasm on thick. “After speaking to his dead son, I’ll just go to his house, and what?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Rhys shrugged. “Offer him an actual conversation with his son-”  
  
“No. No, absolutely not.”  
  
“He freaked out, give him some time to cool off-”  
  
“He’s not going to want to speak with me again. And that’s fine.” The delicate plate broke in his hand. With a curse he set aside the large chunk and carefully dragged his hand through the sudsy water locating the other half. He held the two pieces, and looked to Rhys. “Don’t tell Connor.”   
  
Rhys grinned, grabbed a few sheets of paper towel and wrapped up the broken bits. “Tell Connor what,” he said tossing it in the garbage bin. “You know… you could text Hank. Surely Gavin has his number.”   
  
“Drop it.”   
  
“Dropping it,” Rhys said, but the smirk he wore said that was a lie. The topic was not dropped at all, simply shelved for later.   
  
The back door opened, and the cool evening air came through. North walked over, her tea-length dress flowing with the sway of her hips, a couple of empty glasses in her hand. She set them down near the sink. “Amanda is saying her goodbyes outside.”   
  
A warning both brothers were thankful for. Noah nodded. “Thanks.”  
  
She gave a nod, looked to Rhys for a moment, but ultimately turned heel and went out the back door.   
  
Only a few minutes passed before Amanda came through the house, this time with Svana by her side. Svana had always played second fiddle to Connor, and only when Connor left did she become the apprentice, but she looked rather smug about her new position.   
  
Noah dried off his hands, smoke weaving around his fingers as the shadows pitched just slightly to the left, in a rush he covered his scar with the sleeve of his shirt.    
  
“We must be on our way,” Amanda announced. “Farewell.”   
  
“Farewell,” Noah repeated.   
  
She gently took his hands in hers. Thumbs brushing over his knuckles. “If it gets to be too much, you can always come home.”   
  
He knew that to her he was nothing more than a display of her power, even if he had always wanted to be more. “I am home.”  
  
Her lips pressed into a hard line but she nodded, her power cold against his as she pulled away. “Goodbye, Rhys.”   
  
“Goodbye, Amanda.” Despite the alcohol in his system, he stood rigid, eyes narrowed.   
  
Svana just smirked, following Amanda out. The tension in Rhys left the moment the door shut behind them, and he leaned heavily against the island. “I need another drink.”   
  
Noah, Noah just wanted to sleep, even when he knew he wouldn’t be able to.   
  
Instead, it was another two hours of dishes and farewells. By the time he finally sat down at the island his shoulders ached, and his fingers resembled prunes. Chloe came in gave him a little wave, headed down the stairs with a mighty yawn. It was a reoccurring theme as everyone came in and headed for their bedrooms. North didn’t look at him as she followed Markus up the stairs.   
  
Rhys came down a few seconds after, he stopped at the bottom, his hand on the wall. “You know what, I need another drink.”   
  
“You really don’t,” Noah muttered.   
  
Rhys ignored, him, but went to a cabinet, and pulled out a half burned bundle of sage in an abalone shell. Soon the scent of burning sage filled the air. “All I can smell is Amanda’s perfume,” Rhys said turning around and Noah got the sight of his slightly drunk and disheveled big brother wearing red boxers,and a pink shirt reading ‘Namaslay,’ in gold glitter.   
  
Rhys returned to the island, grabbed the bottle of champagne that still had a good quarter left and chugged a bit from it. He took the bottle in one hand, the sage in the other as he walked slowly through the house, the smoke rising and curling.   
  
Connor and Gavin came in at last, the back room finally darkening as Connor turned off the lights. “You’re still up,” Connor said, sounding surprised, then looking around. “Where is Rhys.”   
  
Noah pointed to the living room. “I don’t need to be babysat.”   
  
Connor frowned, then turned to Gavin. “I’ll be up in a minute.”   
  
Gavin remained for a minute before nodding, and heading to the stairs. Connor came to sit next to Noah. “I know you’re not pleased with my precautions.”   
  
“What? Sharing a room with my older brother?” he said dryly. “No, not a highlight.”   
  
“I am a fucking delight,” Rhys said, returning.   
  
Connor stared for a long moment, and then rubbed his temples. “By the Goddess, Rhys.”  
  
“Goddess can suck my-”  
  
“Rhys!” Both Connor and Noah whisper-shouted.   
  
He rolled his eyes, tipped the bottle at his lips, and then lowered it, shaking it a bit before setting it down on the island- empty. As he sat down on the other side of the counter, he carefully placed abalone shell on the counter, the smoke curling, stretching.   
  
They sat in silence for a while, but naturally it was Rhys who broke it. “You shouldn’t have invited Amanda.”   
  
“You know why I did,” Connor said.  
  
“Oh, I get the why,” Rhys replied. “That doesn’t mean I think it was the right thing, not for you, or Noah, or this coven.”   
  
“I can’t burn that bridge.”   
  
“Why the fuck not?” Rhys hissed. “We don’t have to depend on her anymore. Being free of her was the point in building this coven in the first place!”   
  
Connor stood stiffly. “If you want to discuss this, then we can do so when you’re sober. I’ll stay with Noah tonight, go sleep this off.”   
  
“You’re just pissed because I’m right.”   
  
“You’re not,” Connor replied, the calm in the eye of the storm that was Rhys. “But I’m not going to argue with you right now. Go to bed, Rhys.”   
  
Rhys stood. “I don’t want her back in this house.”   
  
“Noted.”   
  
“Oh, fuck you, Connor!” Rhys snapped, turning for the hall, grabbing half a bottle of Merlot on the way.   
  
Connor shut his eyes and exhaled.   
  
“Go, be with Gavin,” Noah said softly. “I’m not going to sleep tonight.”   
  
“You need to-”  
  
“I won’t be able to,” Noah insisted. “Too much energy in here, spirits are loud.” All the witches in one place, and not all of them coven made him extra sensitive to the energy they’d left behind. “It _is_ your engagement party after all, go to bed with your fiance.”   
  
“Okay, but wake me up if you get tired.”   
  
“Sure, good night.”   
  
“Good night,” Connor replied.   
  
Noah couldn’t help but speak up once Connor was a few steps away. “I know why you invited her.” Connor paused, and looked at him. “She’s your contingency plan. In case I overpower you. You need to keep her on your good side.”   
  
Connor paled a little. “You don’t need to worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you again.”   
  
Noah averted his gaze to the sage still burning, unable to maintain eye contact. “You need to let me go, Con, and when it gets really bad, you need to remember you did everything you could, I-” his brother’s arms wrapped around him so tight he bit his tongue, and hugged Connor back. “You can’t fight fate,” he whispered.   
  
“Watch me,” Connor replied as he finally stepped back and released Noah. Standing at his full height, with that slightly raised chin, and defiance in his eyes, Noah understood right then just why other witches instinctively reacted to him, that power and utter control paired with intelligence that made him think he could even bend fate to his whims. “The aether will have you over my dead body.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hank didn’t go into work the day after the engagement party. He ended up so far into a bottle he woke up on the bathroom floor. The day after though, he showered, got dressed in the first things he grabbed out of the closet and came in two hours late.  
  
It didn’t matter. The entire reason Fowler hadn’t been in attendance at the engagement party was that he’d gone on a long overdue, month long cruise with his wife- one he’d been promising for at least a decade. There was no one to give him shit about being a little bit late.  
  
“You’re fucking late,” Gavin snarled, grabbing his coffee while he typed with one hand.  
  
So, there was one person to give him shit, but Gavin wasn’t his superior officer, so he wasn’t concerned. “Yeah, and what of it?”  
  
Gavin just drank a few sips of his coffee, and put the mug back down on the desk. “Just didn’t figure you’d show, like yesterday.”  
  
“Took a personal day-”  
  
Gavin gave a hum, acknowledging that he’d heard, but also managing to sound dismissive.  
  
He was hungover and in no mood to put up with Gavin’s attitude. “Look, do we have a case, or what?”  
  
“Just finishing with it, I’ve been here since yesterday. Since you didn’t show, I worked the homicide of a fourteen year old by myself, going and informing the mother, spent hours doing door-to-door interviews, going through evidence collected, locating my primary suspect, bringing him in, doing the interrogation, and getting a confession, and now,” he jammed his fingers into three more keys. “Finishing my report. So no, we don’t have a case. I have a case, and it’s closed.”  
  
Hank figured it best not to piss Gavin off further. He went to the break room, made a coffee for himself, and another for Gavin as a peace offering. He carried both coffees back into the bullpen, sidestepping around Officer Person, and setting the hot coffee down on Gavin’s desk.  
  
The detective looked at it, chugged back the rest of his, and grabbed the new mug. “I’m not pissed because you weren’t here yesterday.”  
  
Hank froze rather than return to his desk. “So you’re pissed that I left your fucking engagem-”  
  
“No,” Gavin snapped cutting him off. He stood and dragged Hank off to a quieter part of the precinct, which was good, Hank didn’t want to be the gossip of the week. “I hated witches, I hated them,” he hissed as they came to a stop. “A witch ritualistically murdered my mother, but that isn’t Connor. That isn’t Rhys, or Noah, or any of them. I understand more now that I’ve been living with them.”  
  
Hank wanted to turn away, to leave, he kept thinking about the way Noah had spoken about the dog shaking after his bath, and the story rang true. Sumo had shook and water had gotten all over him, and Cole had laughed, and laughed, and laughed. The thought of his baby boy at peace was one thing, but the thought of him lingering in this hell hole was another.  
  
“Noah can’t just turn the sight off,” Gavin continued. “He didn’t know.”  
  
The surprise of it all, the understanding that came with the necromancer seeing, and speaking with his dead son had gutted him. All the condolences, and grief counseling had insisted his son was in a better place, that he’d moved on, Hank had needed to believe it just to crawl out of bed in the morning.  
  
“Noah’s pretty upset about the entire thing.”  
  
Hank thought of Noah holding the towel to his chest the first night they’d met. The bumbling awkwardness of Noah’s thanks the day after. Deep down, he knew Noah wasn’t a bad person, he wouldn’t have lied about Cole, even if believing it had been a trick was somehow easier to swallow.  
  
The problem wasn’t Noah, it had never been Noah.  
  
The problem was that Noah was a witch.  
  
The problem was that his son was dead.  
  
“Yeah, what do you want me to do about it?” Hank asked sarcastically, wanting to brush the entire thing off.  
  
“Try not being an absolute dick when he inevitably tries to apologize for the way he was born.” Gavin didn’t give him a chance for a rebuttal, just turned on his heel and stormed back out to the bullpen.  
  
::  
  
The first time Noah ever pointed out a spirit to someone outside of the coven, he was eight. He remembered walking with Amanda, sticking close to her side. They went to a bakery owned by witches to pick up deserts for their midsummer festivities. Not all customers were witches though.  
  
Noah had struggled not to wander, even though all the sweets delighted him. There were cookies shaped like stars and cats. The pie had a lattice design, and sparkled with the sugar sprinkled on top. Cakes were little towers with artistic flowers made up of icing. Everything smelled so good, and looked so pretty.  
  
There was a family; an elderly man, a middle aged woman, and a little girl. The girl wore a pretty bow in her hair, and stopped to press her hands against the glass case protecting the cakes. The old man stopped beside her, watching her fondly, while the woman looked at the rows of muffins with her lips pursed.  
  
Amanda was still talking to the woman at the counter, so Noah wandered over to the little girl. She looked up at him and grinned, her two front teeth were missing. “It’s almost my birthday,” she said.  
  
“How old are you?” he asked.  
  
“I’m six,” she said, bouncing a little on the spot, her shoes lighting up. “But I’m going to be seven in ten more days, and I get to pick out my cake!”  
  
Noah looked into the glass case; there was a two tiered cake with pretty white piping, the long slab cake was covered in blue frosting and had a bunch of colourful flowers all the way around-  
  
“Oooh!” She pointed. “Look, that one is purple! Purple is my favourite colour!” She smiled at him. “What’s your favourite colour?”  
  
He remembered when Svana made fun of him when he said his favourite colour was black, that it wasn’t a real colour. “Purple,” he said, agreeing with her. The girl appeared delighted with his answer. “If you love the purple cake so much, you should tell your mom.”  
  
And like that the girl’s happiness fell away, her lower lip trembled and her brown eyes welled up with tears. Noah frowned, and looked over at the woman by the muffins, only now she was closer, studying him.  
  
“Nairobi’s mother passed away,” the old man said softly, his hand running over the girl’s corkscrew curls. “But I’ll get you the cake,” he said to her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”  
  
The woman grabbed Noah’s arm, and he felt his magic flare around the touch. “You can see me?” she asked.  
  
Panic struck him, and he pulled back. The little girl cried, the old man watched him, pulling the girl closer and backing away. “Amanda!” he called out.  
  
“Help me,” the woman said, grabbing him again, tighter, and his magic clawed along the floor, slithered along the glass cabinets, darkening the room. The little girls screamed, and cried in earnest.  
  
Amanda dismissed the woman’s spirit, and he felt it like an icy winters wind, it cut straight to his bones and left him shivering. “I told you to stay with me, Noah,” she said, grabbing his hand, the cold seeping in. She glared at the old man as she walked past.  
  
The old man and the little girl left, even despite the baker offering a cake for free. The little girl had likely been traumatized. It had been Noah’s fault.  
  
All these years later he still made the same mistake. This time speaking to Cole, and hurting Hank.  
  
He wanted to apologize, somehow make amends, but didn’t know how.  
  
It didn’t stop him from staring at his phone at in the early morning hours, ‘HANK ANDERSON’ a contact in his phone he hadn’t noticed before. He wasn’t sure when it was placed there, but he had a suspicion as to who had acquired it, and then input the data into his phone.  
  
Either way, he sat at the kitchen island debating texting the number. He couldn’t get over how devastated Hank had looked, couldn’t get over the fact that he’d been the one to put that expression on his face.  
  
‘I’m sorry’ didn’t cover that kind of agony, and he didn’t feel confident enough to apologize face to face either. Hank probably would never want to see him again anyway, and yet, he brought up the text box, and started to type.  
  
‘I apologize profusely for your experience at the engagement party. We did our best to ensure that all guests would feel welcome and comfortable at the event and what I did was wrong. I cannot apologize enough. Take care- Noah’  
  
He read it over several times, his finger hovering over the send button, before finally taking the plunge.  
  
He grabbed his sketchbook, and pulled it closer. He had received an inquiry from an indie author of children’s books about doing the illustrations. The book was a cute story, simple and sweet, he already had vivid ideas for the little creatures of the world, and the colour palette he wanted to use. He’d even considered breaking out the water-colour paints he hadn’t touched in years.  
  
He had only managed to sketch out a few lines before his phone pinged. Either Hank had responded with anger, or forgiveness. He set his pencil down and grabbed his phone.  
  
HANK: You sound like some corporate asshole.  
  
 Noah frowned at the response. He thought he’d been polite, and to the point. His phone pinged again.  
  
HANK: Why the fuck are you awake at two thirty in the morning?  
  
NOAH: I don’t sleep much.  
  
HANK: No shit.  
  
For a minute, Noah thought that would be the end of it. Being brushed off, after the bare minimum contact.  
  
HANK: Did you really see Cole?  
  
A soft curse left Noah’s lips, as he set his phone down. He cursed again, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He didn’t know what Hank wanted to hear, confirmation that his son had moved on, or the truth. He looked at his phone when it pinged again.  
  
HANK: You did, didn’t you?  
  
Noah grabbed his phone, and held it in his hands. He stared at the words so long the letters all shifted and blurred until he blinked the fuzziness away.  
  
NOAH: Yes.  
  
He set the phone back down, expecting that to be the end of the conversation.  
  
HANK: Is he okay?  
  
Noah let out the breath he’d been holding.  
  
NOAH: Yes. Curious mostly, sounds like you don’t go to parties often.  
  
HANK: Not really my scene.  
  
NOAH: And what is your scene?  
  
He held the phone, his sketch book forgotten as he waited for a response.  
  
HANK: IDK. I work a lot. Sumo needs attention. Don’t go out much.  
  
NOAH: How old is Sumo?  
  
HANK: Seven.  
  
A one word response made Noah anxious. He didn’t want the conversation to end.  
  
HANK: Can I ask you something?  
  
NOAH: Sure.  
  
HANK: When did you start magic?  
  
It hadn’t been the question Noah had been expecting. He didn’t find there to be any reason to avoid answering it though.  
  
NOAH: Not sure. For as long as I can remember.  
  
HANK: So you were really small.  
  
NOAH: Yes.  
  
HANK: Did it scare you?  
  
NOAH: Sometimes. Sometimes it still does.  
  
HANK: What is with that Amanda bitch?  
  
A surprised huff of laughter escaped Noah before he could bite his lip.  
  
NOAH: She raised us. Was our House Mother when we were still with the Stern Coven.  
  
HANK: Is she acting like that because you three left?  
  
NOAH: Perhaps in part. She loves control, and displaying her power. Connor was her apprentice.  
  
HANK: You’re more powerful though.  
  
NOAH: Too powerful. And unbound. I’d make a terrible apprentice, but showing other she has a nines, and can control it- like I said, she likes power.  
  
The next message took so long to come in that Noah started to think that Hank had either lost interest, or fallen asleep.  
  
HANK: There is a lot wrong with how you phrased that.  
  
HANK: Unbound? You did mention before not being tied to the coven.  
  
Noah didn’t have time to respond between the two messages. He looked back at his own message, wondering what bothered Hank. The man had called him a ‘nines’ when they’d first met. And while it was considered a slur, it was also accurate.  
  
The second message he could answer easily.  
  
NOAH: I can’t be officially bound to the house parent of a coven. In this instance, my power could overwhelm Connor, and I need him, along with what power he gets from being bound to the others, to temper my power to something I can live with.  
  
HANK: What happened to your real parents?  
  
NOAH: Mom left us with Amanda after dad committed suicide.    
  
HANK: Shit. Sorry.  
  
NOAH: It’s fine. I don’t remember any of it.  
  
HANK: Did you ever see your dad after?  
  
HANK: Fuck, forget that. Shit.  
  
HANK: That was insensitive as fuck. I’m sorry.  
  
NOAH: It’s fine. I’m not as bothered by death as other people. And maybe I did? Like I said, I was young when I went into Amanda’s care. I don’t remember seeing Dad, but I guess that doesn’t mean I didn’t.  
  
NOAH: Do I get to ask a question now?  
  
HANK: After I pried into your life like that? Yeah, fuck it, ask me anything.  
  
NOAH: What’s your favourite colour?  
  
HANK: Seriously?  
  
Noah didn’t respond, just waited.  
  
HANK: I don’t have one.  
  
NOAH: You have to.  
  
HANK: IDK. Black.  
  
The shadows shifted slightly, the black of his magic clawed it’s way over the white quartz counter.  
  
NOAH: You should get some sleep, Hank. It’s after three.  
  
HANK: You’ve tired of talking to me?  
  
NOAH: No.  
  
HANK: You know, you looked very handsome at the engagement party. I wish I had said so.  
  
He stared at the words, unsure what to do with the admission. Did the confession warrant one of his own, or would this be just another infraction against him in the morning?  
  
The clock on the wall ticked off the seconds, a reminder that he was running out of time anyway. Any awkwardness would be short lived.  
  
NOAH: I wish you’d asked me to dance.  
  
HANK: You like dancing?  
  
NOAH: I don’t know.  
  
NOAH: But I think I’d like dancing with you.  
  
“Dad’s drinking.”  
  
Noah jumped in his seat, heart racing. He blew out a slow, controlled breath and set his phone down before he turned to face Cole, only then did the boy’s words settle in. It made sense, how Hank was more willing to speak about magic, about Cole, to even tease, perhaps flirt.  
  
“A little bit?” Noah asked softly, afraid of being overheard, afraid of the answer.  
  
Cole shrugged with just one shoulder. “It’s a big bottle with brown stuff.”  
  
Noah had a few guesses. “Okay.”  
  
“He looks tired, but he smiled a bit while he was messaging you.” Cole tapped the toe of one of his feet against the floor. “He hasn’t looked happy very often.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that.”  
  
His phone pinged again, and he took his attention from Cole to check the message.  
  
HANK: I think I’d like dancing with you too.  
  
Noah closed his eyes tight. Hank had been drinking, he’d likely regret all of this in the morning.  
  
NOAH: It’s been great talking to you, but I think I’m going to fall asleep now. Please, feel free to reach out any time. Good night.  
  
He glared at his own words on the screen.  
  
HANK: Good night, Noah.  
  
“I think Dad needs a friend,” Cole said. “I think you’re a good friend for him to have.”  
  
Noah agreed on the first, and had doubts about the second, but by the time he turned to the spot where Cole had been, the boy was gone.  
  
::  
  
Over the next five days, Hank had re-read the chat log with Noah several times. He remembered the night in fragments, the alcohol had made it easier to talk to the witch, to ask questions, to say things he couldn’t say sober. It wasn’t fair, Noah was a nice guy, too sweet. He had such a naive energy, and yet Hank knew that wasn’t the case, the man saw dead people on the regular.  
  
The text messages still lingered in the back of his mind as he stopped by the crime scene he’d been working for a second look. The crime scene techs had left hours ago, most of the evidence had been bagged and taken to the lockers in the basement of the DPD. Fingerprint dust had been left on certain objects. There was still the obvious signs of struggle. Blood had soaked into the ivory carpet.  
  
An entire family had been murdered; Bryan Adler had been killed in the garage. Laurie Adler in the kitchen. Their eleven year old son Jack, killed in the living room. Working homicide for as long as he had, he’d learned to compartmentalize, to not take work home with him. But when it came to families, to children, it ate at him. He had to solve this case.  
  
When the front door creaked, his hand went to his gun as he turned. Gavin ducked under the tape, and Hank released his weapon. The detective straightened out, and shrugged. “Guess this one is eating at both of us.”  
  
“It’ll take the crime scene techs ages to match up those fingerprints.” Hank said, eying the large picture on the wall of the extended family, there were also pictures from neighbourhood parties. Their interviews indicated that the family enjoyed entertaining. “The neighbours didn’t see or hear anything.”    
  
“Yeah, well, look at the lot size,” Gavin said, looking at the pictures on the mantle, one of the young boy smiled at them. “Not to mention the fence taller than me.” It was an exaggeration, even if not much of one. “Neighbours not hearing anything isn’t as surprising to me as the fact that the killer was able to get through the security.” Gavin pointed to the keypad by the front door. “I was able to get in contact with the alarm company, and they said that it was disabled right around the time the first kill happened.”  
  
“Did they say which keypad disabled the alarm?”  
  
“Garage door,” Gavin replied. “Here is what I’m thinking happened, the guy came with Mr. Adler, either he knows him, or he took him by force from work- I’ve already contacted his company asking for any information, got interviews with everyone tomorrow, and there are no fucking cameras in the parking garage, so fuck us I guess. Anyway, killer goes in with Mr. Adler, that gets them access to the garage, kills Mr. Adler, makes enough noise that his wife hears it in the kitchen, she disables the alarm before opening the door, she becomes victim two… and then the kid is last.”  
  
“Got a motive?”  
  
“Not without a suspect,” Gavin said, crossing his arms as he stared moodily down at the carpet. “I keep thinking eventually this shit will stop bothering me.  
  
“I’d be more worried if it does,” Hank replied.  
  
Gavin slowly nodded. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”  
  
“Maybe we’ll shake something up with Adler’s job. Maybe someone got passed for a promotion or- I don’t know, something.” Hank can’t imagine anything that would drive him to kill a man and his entire family.  
  
They continued to work the case another four days, more homicide files landing on their desks, an yet no new evidence. The interviews with Bryan Adler’s employees shake up nothing new. He was well liked, and believed that if you took care of your employees, they would take pride, and take care of your company. No one had a bad word to say about their deceased boss.  
  
It was edging dangerously close to being filed as a cold case, and Hank was not okay with that.  
  
Hank and Gavin were standing in the break room waiting for the coffee to finish brewing when Hank said a sentence he never thought he would utter. “What if we bring in a necromancer?”  
  
“They’re expensive,” Gavin said. “It’s not in the DPD budget.”  
  
“What, you can’t sweet-talk your boyfriend into doing it?”  
  
“Fiance,” Gavin quickly corrected with a smug grin, his thumb brushing along the band on his ring finger. “And no, I’m not asking him to do that.”  
  
“I will,” Hank said, rubbing his temples. “I can’t get over this one.”  
  
Gavin was quiet for a long moment, but Hank figured with the dark circles under his eyes, Gavin wasn’t able to let this one go either. “He’s out of town at the moment anyway.”  
  
Hank looked up, saw the worried pinch in Gavin’s brow. “I thought he had to stick around to do that thing to Noah.”  
  
“Tempers him, yeah, right now Markus is doing it,” Gavin rubbed his finger over the scar on his nose. Something felt off about the statement, but Gavin didn’t volunteer any more information. “He’s not back until this afternoon.”  
  
“What about asking Noah… or Rhys.”  
  
“Rhys can’t, not powerful enough.” Gavin glanced at the coffee maker, glared at it, then shook his head. “I’m not asking Noah that. Connor would be pissed.” The coffee maker beeped, and Gavin set to pouring them both a mug.  
  
Hank pulled out his phone. Noah had invited more contact. The worst he could say was no.  
  
HANK: I have a favour to ask, but it’s fine if you say no.  
  
He expected to have to wait a while for a response, so he was surprised by the near immediate response.  
  
NOAH: What do you need?  
  
Gavin brought over both coffees to the break table.  
  
HANK: I have a case I can’t solve. No leads and very little evidence. Could use a necromancer.  
  
NOAH: You have to pick me up. And don’t tell Connor.  
  
HANK: When?  
  
NOAH: Now?  
  
“Noah says he’ll help,” Hank said.  
  
Gavin dropped his head to the table with a heavy ‘thump.’ “If Connor finds out he’s going to be pissed.”  
  
“Yeah, Noah said not to tell Connor,” Hank said.  
  
Gavin glared at him even as he sipped his coffee. “I can’t believe you asked him for help.”  
  
“You wanted me to be better with witches-”  
  
“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to take advantage of Noah’s kindness, or power.”  
  
“What’s the point of being able to see things and then not use it?”  
  
“You now what, I want no part of this,” Gavin shook his head. “I didn’t hear any of this, you’re on your own.”  
  
“Seriously?” Hank deadpanned.  
  
“Yeah, seriously. We’ve got several other cases, I’ll do some work on them before Fowler gets on our asses.”  
  
Hank grabbed his coffee. “Fine. Text me if you get any leads.”  
  
“Yeah, just take care of Noah. If this goes to hell in a hand basket, I’m not protecting you from Connor.”  
  
The thought of being the target of a witch’s anger left him chilled, but he walked away from Gavin before the other man could pick up on the fear.  
  
By the time he arrived at the Arkay coven house, his coffee was gone, and the fact he had asked a witch for help had finally set in. He didn’t have time to panic, not when he barely had the car in park when Noah stepped out of the house.  
  
The witch wore black from head to toe, fussing a little with the left cuff of his turtle neck sweater. His long stride ate up what little panic time Hank had and then Noah was sitting next to him. Soft grey-blue eyes were highlighted by dark circles. “Hello, Hank.”  
  
Hank cleared his throat. “Noah.”  
  
He still fidgeted with the cuff of his sweater. “So what is it you need me to do?”  
  
“I don’t know, talk to the dead, get me a lead.” He grimaced. “I’m not sure how necromancy works.”  
  
Noah stared long enough that Hank felt uncomfortable. “What answer are you looking for.”  
  
“Someone killed a family, I want to know who.”  
  
“Do we have access to the bodies?” Noah asked like he was requesting a newspaper. “And can I remove their eyeballs?”  
  
Hank’s stomach lurched. “No. What? _No_.”  
  
“Can you take me to where they were killed?”  
  
“I shouldn’t,” Hank muttered, “but yeah, that’s possible.”  
  
Noah fastened his seatbelt, sat straight in his seat, and closed his eyes.  
  
Hank put the vehicle into reverse, and about three minutes into the drive he looked over to find that Noah still had his eyes closed. “Trying to get some sleep?”  
  
“I can’t tell the difference between the living and the dead, you don’t want to know what looking out a windshield is like.”  
  
Hank grimaced. “Right.” They drove for a long while in silence. He wasn’t sure if he should bring up the text messages or not. He had more or less ignored them when he texted Noah again- asking for help on a murder investigation. Real nice. “Thanks for doing this.”  
  
“I’m happy I can help.”  
  
“Why is it so important that Connor doesn’t find out? Is it because I’m asking a favour and not getting you paid. Witches rights and all that?”  
  
“No, it’s not that,” Noah said, but offered no more information.  
  
“Then what is it?” Hank had to ask.  
  
“He’s just… overprotective. Don’t worry about it.”    
  
“We’re just entering the gated community,” Hank informed Noah. “We’re almost there.” He parked the vehicle a few minutes later. Noah didn’t speak as they walked up onto the porch. There was still crime scene tape on the door. Hank unlocked the door with the key he had from work, and led Noah inside. “Try not to touch anything.”  
  
“Okay,” Noah said.  
  
The mansion had a wall of windows that showcased an incredible pool, gardens, and manicured lawn. Furniture was all high end, and yet it still felt lived in, a blanket thrown messily over the back of a couch, an action figure on the floor, half under the coffee table.  
  
Hank looked over to Noah. “So?”  
  
“I don’t think anyone is here.”  
  
“No kidding.”  
  
“I meant no spirits are here,” Noah said. “They left. If they were lingering here at the house they would have felt me immediately.”  
  
“So you can’t tell me anything?”  
  
Noah crouched down by the blood stain on the carpet, then with two fingers touched it.  
  
“What did I say about touching!”  
  
His black magic crept along the blood, and then dissipated as if it had never been there in the first place. “Fear, and confusion. Pain. He was young.”  
  
Hank shut his eyes, tried not to think of his son, scared, confused, hurt in the back seat of the car. _Dying._  
  
Noah stood walked straight back into the kitchen, and Hank followed. Watched as Noah yet again crouched down and touched the next pool of blood that had dried and stained the tile. Magic crept along. “Terror, pain, understanding.”  
  
“Understanding?” The word stood out among the others.  
  
The magic dissipated. “I can’t be sure, but I think she knew the killer.”  
  
They went into the garage, Hank watched as Noah touched another pool of dried blood. “Fear. Pain.” He shook his head as he stood. “Confusion.”  
  
“That’s it, that’s all you can tell me?”  
  
“Blood magic is part of being a necromancer, but it’s not particularly useful,” Noah replied. “The spirits aren’t here-”  
  
“Can’t you conjure them or some shit.”  
  
Noah looked positively offended. “No!” He ran his hands down his face. “Hank, that’s like… wrapping barbed wire around someone’s neck and dragging them wherever you want- no half decent person would willing conjure a spirit.”  
  
“I didn’t know,” Hank said, feeling a little sick at the description.  
  
Noah sighed. “Can you get me in to the morgue?”  
  
“I can’t let you… use eyeballs,” Hank said, not wanting to think about it at all.  
  
“I can do it through touch, skin to skin. No one will know.”  
  
Hank thought of the little boy who’d likely, at the very least, heard his mother murdered before being killed himself. Thought of the fact that the case would soon be filed away, collecting dust. “Fuck. Fine.”  
  
It wasn’t until the car that his brain played catch up. “Why did you specify eyes earlier.”  
  
“It’s… easier,” Noah replied. “This way is a little more complex, but I can handle it.”  
  
They didn’t talk much on the drive. Hank got Noah signed in as a guest at the precinct, and led the way to the elevator. He spotted Noah fidgeting with his sleeve again. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Some magic is less pleasant to do than others.”  
  
“You don’t have to do this,” Hank said.  
  
Noah nodded. “I know. But I want to help.”  
  
Hank exited the elevator first, led the way down the hall, and pushed open the door to the morgue. Elijah was sitting at his desk, typing out notes, startling in his chair when they came in. He put his hand over his heart. “I swear I’m putting in motion sensors,” he muttered so low that Hank almost missed it. “Noah? What are you doing here.”  
  
The necromancer grimaced, and looked to Hank.  
  
“You know what,” Elijah locked his computer and stood. “I’m going to take my break. It’s fifteen minutes long.” And then he left the room.  
  
“Shit,” Noah whispered as the doors swung closed. “I forgot he worked here.”  
  
“Still want to do this?”  
  
“I’m already going to have to listen to a lecture from Connor,” Noah replied. “Let’s do this.”  
  
Hank already knew which door held the body of Laurie Adler. He’d already listened to Elijah’s findings on the woman, standing in the morgue days ago. He opened the door, pulled the body on the slab out. Her skin ice cold and a little blueish.  
  
“You should wait outside,” Noah said.  
  
“No. I’m already breaking a lot of rules, I’m not leaving you in here alone.”  
  
“You’re uncomfortable with magic.”  
  
“I’ll manage.”  
  
Noah nodded. “I need a chair.”  
  
Hank looked over his shoulder, and then grabbed the back of Elijah’s computer chair, rolling it over to Noah who sat down. He took some long slow breaths before he took her hand, and shut his eyes. The shadows pitched wildly and Hank felt a little disoriented from that alone.  
  
Noah’s jaw dropped, and a tear fell before his face contorted into agony, and he screamed.  
  
“Shit, shit!” Hank wasn’t sure what to do, did he break the connection? Would that make things worse? He hovered nervously near Noah, wanting to reach out, but too afraid of what it might do to the necromancer. “Noah? Can you hear me?”  
  
The doors slammed open, and Elijah rushed in with fear in his eyes. “I already called Connor,” he said, like that made the situation better.  
  
“Why the hell would you do that?” Hank snapped. Noah hadn’t wanted that, and yet to Hank it didn’t actually sound like a bad idea. He needed someone who knew more about magic, someone who could make Noah okay.  
  
“The lights are flickering, his magic is crawling on the upper floor.”  
  
“Fuck!”  
  
Noah suddenly jerked his hand away, fell out of the chair, and his feet scrambling, pushing at the floor, pushing until his back hit the freezers behind him. His hands were over his chest, which heaved with the sobs he let out.  
  
“Noah,” Hank crouched down slowly moving closer. “Noah, can you hear me?” The man seemed so small as he curled up in the fetal position, trying to guard his chest. “Noah?”  
  
Noah blinked, eyelashes heavy with tears. “Hank?”  
  
“I’m here,” Hank said softly. “You’re safe.” He reached out slowly, not sure if Noah would welcome the touch, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t try to back away from it. He could feel the heat of Noah’s body through the sweater, he was sweating, yet trembling like he’d suddenly become cold. “Are you okay?” Noah sat up slowly, ran a hand over his face smudging the tear marks. Hank squeezed his shoulder. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
Hank was a little dumbfounded by the response. It didn’t make sense, but Noah looked lost, desperate, and upset. “Of course it matters,” Hank replied. “You matter.”  
  
And it was like he broke the man entirely as Noah started to cry in earnest as he launched into Hank’s chest fast enough that Hank nearly fell back, but Hank held him, held him tight, held him even as the shadows shifted and clawed their ways up the wall. He felt the sweat on the back of Noah’s neck where he cradled his head to his chest. “You’re alright, I’m here, you’re safe,” he muttered nonsense trying to get Noah to calm down.  
  
They were an awkward mess of limbs, Noah leaning into him a lot heavier than he looked. He leaned back a little but didn’t let go. “She heard the fight in the garage, but she thought that Bryan just knocked something over. Brilliant, but an absolute klutz. They met at a charity function and he tripped and spilled red wine on her dress.”  
  
Noah shook his head, sniffled, before he continued. “She- uh, she disabled the alarm, opened the door to make sure he was okay, but she was face to face with Jesse instead, saw the blood behind him and knew. She’d been running for so long, Hank. Jesse was alive, but he was her ghost. She knew she was dead the minute she opened the door, understood that was it. Terrified- not… not of dying, but for Jack-” His words became lost in the sobbing, and Hank just held him closer, tighter.  
  
Noah’s magic was soft, like the fabric on the baby toys Cole had liked. It skated over his skin in a gentle caress.  
  
“Margret knew she was going to die.”  
  
Hank gave Noah a little shake to get his attention. “Her name was Laurie.”  
  
Noah shook his head. “No. No, she was Margret. Margret Malone.”  
  
The doors to the morgue slammed open, and Hank jolted. He’d forgotten that Elijah was standing nearby. Connor had stormed in, his own magic came with a pressure that could be felt. Rhys stood with him, cool and distant. Gavin trailing after, looking concerned.  
  
“What did you do?” Connor asked, his voice crisp and cold, like a heavy frost on delicate petals.  
  
Noah just turned his head into Hank’s chest, refusing to even look at his brothers.  
  
“Noah, what did you do?” This time, Connor didn’t wait for a response, he walked over to the body, took one quick look and cursed. “You connected with her entire body, didn’t you?” He must have taken the silence as an answer. “I expected better from you. What the hell were you thinking? By the Goddess, you know better!”  
  
“Con, come on, leave him alone,” Gavin said, soft, and nervous.  
  
“And you,” Connor whirled on Gavin. “Did you know about this?”  
  
It wasn’t often that Hank saw Gavin as anything but his cocky, headstrong, reckless self, but the detective took half a step back, eyes wide. “I-I knew Hank had asked Noah for help-”  
  
“And you didn’t think to call me?” Connor’s magic darkened the room. “To say anything?”  
  
“Connor!” Rhys’s voice snapped, as he shoved his twin back a step putting himself between Connor and Gavin. “That’s enough!” Then a softer; “you’re scaring Gavin.”  
  
All at once the fight left Connor, his shoulder’s losing the tension, the magic dissipated leaving only Noah’s curling, and spiraling around near them, like a protective barrier. “I’m sorry,” Connor said in a soft whisper, like he was afraid the full power of his voice would be enough to make Gavin take another step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”  
  
“I’m not afraid of you,” Gavin said, reaching, taking Connor’s hand. “And I’m sorry, I… I should have said something. I knew you’d be upset, but I just… wanted to stay out of it.”  
  
Connor let out a breath. “You should stay at your place tonight.”  
  
“Con-”  
  
“I need to deal with this,” Connor said pulling away from Gavin, and turning to Noah, and Hank found his arms tightening around him. Connor walked over, and Hank could practically feel the power of him. “Are you alright?”  
  
“’M fine,” Noah replied after a minute. His grip on Hank tightened, then loosened as he shifted away. He glared up at his brother. “And I don’t need the lecture.”  
  
“Apparently you do,” Connor said with that ice cold anger he’d walked in with. “And the whole body? You couldn’t just use the eyes?”  
  
“Wasn’t allowed,” Noah muttered.  
  
Hank felt the weight of Connor’s glare. “And you, Lieutenant, you didn’t think this was a bad idea?”  
  
He bristled. “Noah’s capable of making his own decisions.”  
  
“Do you know why necromancers use the eyes?” Connor asked, cocking his head to the side. “It’s to only use that one sense, it’s to focus only on sight. You use the whole body… well, you don’t just see. You get access to memories… feelings. Touch. We call it the second-hand death.”  
  
Hank’s stomach dropped. “Noah? Did you-”  
  
“I’m fine,” Noah said quickly.  
  
But Hank remembered the fear, the agony, the screaming and crying. He’d felt what she had, he’d volunteered to experience a brutal murder, and for what?  
  
Connor flinched suddenly, closed his eyes a moment before he opened them and looked at something that Hank couldn’t see. Connor turned, grabbed something and for a second Hank saw the flicker of magic wash over a tall male figure before it was gone.  
  
“We need to go.” Connor crouched down, and extended a hand.  
  
Noah ignored it. Stood on his own, and Hank rose with him.  
  
The brothers stared at each other, and Hank had a feeling he was missing something.  
  
“This car ride is going to be fantastic,” Rhys said with heavy sarcasm.  
  
Noah looked over at Hank. “Look into Margret Malone, find the Jesse in her life. He’s the one who killed them.”  
  
Hank nodded, and Noah walked around Connor. Rhys threw an arm over his little brother’s shoulder and led him out of the morgue.  
  
“Lieutenant,” Connor said, gaining Hank’s attention. “If you ever ask Noah, or another witch of my coven for help again without consulting me first, we are going to have a problem. Have I made myself clear?”  
  
“If memory of a certain case file is correct, you helped Gavin without the permission of your coven.”  
  
“I was signed in properly and under contract with the Detroit Police, and getting paid for the job I performed,” Connor snapped. “The situations are entirely different. I saw Captain Fowler on the way down here, he didn’t even know that a necromancer was in his precinct. Enjoy explaining the several laws you broke.” Connor stepped in close, his magic curling around his fingers. “So allow me to reiterate, stay the hell away from my brother. Because he might be the level nine, but-” his hand grabbed Hank’s suddenly and Hank could _see_ for just a moment, the overwhelming number of shadowy, coloured bodies his brain couldn’t comprehend. He jerked away, his back hitting a rolling tray of medical instruments. “I’ve always been the one to be afraid of.”  
  
Connor turned on his heel, and didn’t even acknowledge Elijah or Gavin as he left. The shadows retreated back into their confines, and the room regained it’s full light.  
  
Gavin stared longingly at the doors. Elijah fidgeted with a button on his lab coat. Hank had a new set of leads for his case, but a million more questions when it came to the puzzle of Noah Arkay.


	7. Chapter 7

Noah couldn’t recall the last time he’d truly been at odds with Connor. The brothers had spent their entire lives caring for one another under difficult circumstances. They’d been noted as ‘co-dependent,’ by Amanda, labelled like it was something she wanted to work out of them. She hadn’t. Together was where they found their strength. Fighting with Connor made Noah feel off-kilter, guilt gnawing on him for shouting when he knew Connor had always acted with his best interests in mind, even when he didn’t agree.   
  
The heat of the shower still couldn’t warm him. His hands shook under the spray, and he kept touching his chest, needing to assure himself there were no  bleeding wounds. He hadn’t been expecting to be so affected by the ‘second-hand death,’ like knowing what would happen, and being as powerful as he was would protect him.   
  
He still felt her fear. Her pain. The terror of knowing in that moment as she died on the kitchen floor, as she watched the boots walk away, toward the living room that she couldn’t protect her son. The scream echoed inside of his head, and he shoved his face under the water hoping to drown it out.   
  
Only when the water went cold did he get out of the shower. He was surprised by the lack of spirits in the room considering how many of them followed him home. Not all of the spirits made it past the sigil work under the floorboards, but more than half had. He remembered the horrified look on Chloe’s face, she was stronger than Rhys, and could see them, but weaker than Connor, and wasn’t able to dismiss many.   
  
He dried off quickly, his clothes sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. He shook out the heaviest hoodie he owned, lined with a soft fuzz that was gentle against his skin, and pulled it over his head. The pajama bottoms weren’t made of a particularly warm fabric, but he mostly owned shorts, so they would have to suffice.   
  
There were several spirits in his bedroom, and he ignored them for a whole three minutes before he couldn’t take it any more, and dismissed the woman who wouldn’t stop screaming, and the man who kept rocking in his stance whispering nonsense.   
  
A man in police uniform stood tall, his arms crossed. “Hard to believe Anderson made nice with a witch.”   
  
“You need to leave,” Noah said, exhausted after the day he’d had, he just wanted to sleep. “Please.”   
  
“I don’t have any desire to stick around here,” he said, pushing away from the wall he’d been casually leaning against. “But I’ll ask you to do me solid and pass along a message for me.”   
  
Noah raised a brow. “What is it?”   
  
“I was going to propose to my girl,” he said, a smile of boyish charm. “Hid the ring real good, it’s behind a loose baseboard in the guest bedroom. I don’t know if her having the will make things better or worse, but-” he frowned. “I just want her to know I loved her, you know?”   
  
Noah felt his chest ache unsure if the pain came from the phantom wounds, or the ache of lost love. “What’s your name?”   
  
“Officer Karl Ramirez,” he said proudly, a soft smile on his face. He was there one moment, and gone the next.  
  
There were two soft, quick taps on the door and then it opened. Rhys stood there in an old band t-shirt and pajama bottoms, looking like he was expecting a fight, but after everything Noah had been through with Hank, and everything afterward with Connor, he just didn’t have it in him for another argument.   
  
“I know you probably don’t want either of us around but you’re stuck with me anyway.”   
  
“Fine, whatever.” Noah turned away. He wanted to sleep more than anything. There were still another three spirits in the room, but one was staring out the window, another just danced a little to music he couldn’t hear, and the other watched him closely, but he didn’t have it in him to care.   
  
He slipped into bed, and pulled the blankets up over his shoulder, trying to ward off any of the remaining chill.   
  
Rhys followed on the other side. “Look, I know you hashed things out with Connor-”  
  
“Is that what you’d call it? Hashing it out? He’s an ass.”   
  
He felt Rhys shift and sit up. It was enough to make him glance over his shoulder. He was surprised to find Rhys rubbing his hands over his face, taking deep breaths as he looked toward the window- away from Noah. “He’s scared. We’re both scared, you jackass.”   
  
“Rh-”  
  
“I’m not done,” Rhys cuts him off quietly, like a whisper was all he could manage. “You know what you did was dangerous. Those… _things_ in the aether already nearly killed you once. You’ve opened yourself up so much to perform that magic. You pull in spirits of every kind just by being. I get- I get that you wanted to help, and I get that you’re old enough to make your own decisions, and you don’t want your big brothers telling you what to do but-” Rhys dragged his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to lose you.”   
  
Rhys’s voice broke just a little at the end, and Noah sat up. He reached out, at a loss for words, put an arm over Rhys’s shoulders. “We both know I don’t have much time left.”   
  
“Then don’t make it shorter,” Rhys responded through his teeth.   
  
“I-I won’t,” Noah promised.   
  
“Connor might just find something-”  
  
“Connor can’t find what doesn’t exist.”  
  
“The Sentinels-”  
  
“Were wiped out during the witch hunts,” Noah said softly. “We all know that.”  
  
Rhys huffed out a breath. “If anyone could stop this, it would be Con,” Rhys argued passionately. He swiped a hand over his cheek. “Just give him the time to try, please.”   
  
“Okay,” Noah said, trying to placate his brother.   
  
“Good,” Rhys said, sniffling a little. “That’s been enough uncomfortable feelings for the night.”   
  
The comment pushed out a little laugh from Noah. “Good night,” he said, hugging his brother.   
  
Rhys’s arms held extra tight, and Noah ignored the wetness on his shoulder. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he said, before pinching a little on Noah’s back.   
  
Noah twisted away, with a short laugh. “Jerk.”   
  
The calm washed over them, Noah settled once more, trying to ignore the spirits.   
  
A spirit was pacing, he heard them walk back and forth at the foot of the bed. Another was mumbling. Rain started to come down, softly hitting the window. Rhys shifted around, pulling on the blanket a bit. Noah rolled onto his back, and caught the scent of a strong floral perfume. The noises in the house weren’t just the coven, there were unfamiliar voices, his closet door squeaked as it slowly opened.   
  
An hour passed.   
  
Then two.   
  
Despite his exhaustion, Noah gave up on sleep, and slowly got out of bed. The night-light on the far side of the room gave off a dim glow, enough that he could see the spirits in the room. A woman at his closet with a little too much power, empty hangers rattled together. Another woman stood by the window, watching the droplets fall slide down the glass. A man stood, unblinking in the corner.   
  
Rhys shifted a bit, blinked. “Go back to sleep.”   
  
“You go back to sleep,” Noah whispered, walking around the foot of the bed, pulling the blanket that Rhys had kicked off to cover his feet once more. “I’m just going to get some water.”   
  
Rhys turned his face back into the pillow, and was as sleep just as quick.   
  
Noah left his room, shut the door slowly behind himself. He walked barefoot down the hall, grimacing at a spot on the floor that was a little sticky. It had been Josh’s turn with the chore of mopping, but he clearly hadn’t done a very good job of it.   
  
In the kitchen he filled a glass of water by the light that filtered in from the street lamps, and drank it in slow sips. The clock on the wall ticked away, it sounded louder than usual, which he blamed it on his exhaustion, and the overall quiet of the house.   
  
From the basement he heard noise, something out of place. It didn’t sound like a movie or video game- and the clock read three AM, everyone would usually be sleeping. He focussed on the sound, caught onto the pattern of the the repetitive tapping as it progressively got louder.   
  
He rarely went into the basement. It was mostly bedrooms. There was a small sitting room, but often times it was hooked up to video games he didn’t play.   
  
_Tap._  
  
 _Tap._  
  
 _Tap._  
  
 _Tap._   
  
He set the glass on the counter, and walked back to the stairs. He could go back up, return to bed, try to sleep once again, but like the clock ticking in the kitchen, the tapping seem to be getting louder too.   
  
He slowly crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake Simon, Josh, North or Chloe up. It was probably something stupid. Maybe a branch tapping on one of the small basement windows. Or a spirit interacting with something or other. He saw dead people, he wasn’t afraid of what might linger in the basement.   
  
It was too dark to see, and he reached out, his hand brushing along the wall until it came in contact with the light switch. He was momentarily blinded by the light, and shut his eyes for a moment before glaring at the offensively bright room. The walls were all painted white, the grey sectional took up a good portion of the sitting room. There were two mugs upon the circular coffee table- one of which had a bright pink lipstick mark. A potted forget-me-not was up in the windowsill. The television mounted on the wall was off. The coffee table was clean, nothing upon it. He stared at the gleaming faux marble for a long moment, and then shook his head.   
  
The tapping continued.   
  
Louder.   
  
It maintained an even beat. Tap. Three seconds of silence. Tap. Three seconds of silence. Tap-   
  
There were three bedrooms in the basement, and one bathroom. Chloe and North shared a room because they both had apartments elsewhere in the city that they had leases on, and stayed in when they needed space. It was uncommon for an entire coven to live under the same roof full-time. Simon had the smallest room to himself, and Josh’s room had the door to the water-heater, and no closet.   
  
He checked the bathroom first, it had the faint scent of a lemon cleaner, unsurprising since today was chore-day. The sink didn’t drip, he checked in the shower, but nothing anywhere in the bathroom was making the noise despite it getting louder.   
  
He pressed his ear against the door to Simon’s room, but it didn’t seem to be coming from inside. He then did the same with Josh’s, he could still hear the tapping, but it didn’t seem to be coming from his room either.   
  
It was emanating from the North and Chloe’s room. He looked at the table, half expecting their mugs on the table, but neither of them were home, he remembered. Chloe had been exhausted by the dismissal of as many spirits as she could manage, she had wanted to rest, undisturbed by the many spirits that Noah had pulled in earlier, away from the ripples he caused in the aether.   
  
North had driven her, and it had been decided that she would keep watch over the necromancer.   
  
The women wouldn’t appreciate the violation of their space, and he didn’t like the idea of going inside without either of them home.   
  
_Tap._   
  
_Tap._  
  
 _Tap._  
  
He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment over the door handle before he finally grabbed, twisted, and pushed open the door.   
  
The light behind him refused to illuminate the room. “Chloe?” he whispered into the suffocating darkness. While he’d been sure that she wasn’t home, other than her magic, he couldn’t think of any other reason for the light couldn’t touch the room. Maybe he was mistaken, or maybe she’d decided to come back. He pressed his hand against the wall, uncomfortable with the fact that he couldn’t see it, but let his magic bleed out, let it crawl along the expanse. “North?” he called out for good measure, this was as far from the pyromancer’s magic as could be.   
  
He was answered by nothing but the steady _tap, tap, tap._  
  
A part of him wanted to go to Connor, to have his big brother take a look, and just as quickly recalled his anger at said brother, the irritation at being treated like a child incapable of making his own decisions.   
  
He wasn’t weak, or small, and certainly didn’t need to go running to his brother because of a little weirdness.   
  
The light switch wasn’t anywhere he could reach from the threshold he discovered after running his hands over the walls.   
  
He lifted his foot, ready to just walk in when something behind him fell and startled him so bad that he jumped back. The forget-me-not had fallen from the window, and onto the end of the sectional before the pot rolled onto the floor and, cracked. Wet soil was all over the couch, and floor.   
  
The noise was forgotten as Noah let out a quiet curse. He rushed over to save the plant, and the fabric. Simon or Markus would have to fix it properly, but he did what he could, packing in as much of the dark soil as he could while wondering if he should try to blot out the water with paper towel, or if that would push the traces of soil in further. Might be best to wait for it to dry and have it cleaned. He’d consult the Internet if he’d grabbed his phone on the way down.   
  
He set the plant down on the coffee table, and noticed that the tapping had stopped. He could see in North and Chloe’s room, shadows of their beds against opposite walls, a wall of hanging greenery separating their spaces, and giving a bit of privacy.   
  
Standing back up, he walked to the door, stared inside. No darkness clung there, no echos of magic. He could easily reach the light switch and turned it on. The bold colours on Chloe’s side, the neutral ones over on North’s, the hanging greens in the middle. He slowly closed the door, and stood outside of it for a moment, before he opened it again. Chloe’s bed had several throw pillows, North had a handmade quilt. Their room was entirely normal.   
  
He turned off the light and shut the door. When he went back upstairs, he checked in the kitchen, and the clock ticked quietly once more. He returned to his room, the spirit of the man in the corner was gone, but the other two still remained.   
  
In the time he was gone, Rhys had burritoed himself in the thick blankets. Noah grabbed another out of a drawer rather than risk waking his brother, curled back up and hoped for sleep.   
  
When he woke up in the morning, he was twisted up in the one blanket. Rhys had the majority of them, only the tips of his hair visible from how deeply he’d burrowed.   
  
At breakfast, when he asked Simon about the forget-me-nots in the basement, the geomancer raised a brow. “The only thing I have growing in the basement is lavender, sage, and weed.”   
  
Later, when everyone was at work, he checked the basement for himself. There was no plant on the table. No soil on the couch or floor.   
  
There was no evidence that anything in the basement had happened at all.   
  
::  
  
It wasn’t that Hank wanted to attend a dinner with Jeffrey and his wife, it was that he had been guilted into it. Heavily. Something about bringing a necromancer into the morgue without going through proper channels. He knew he was getting off light with a slap on the wrist because they were friends, that he could have had his badge pulled for that stunt.   
  
But he had followed the lead given to him by Noah. The necromancer had been right. Laurie Adler really had originally been Margret Malone. She’d legally changed her name at twenty four, after a domestic dispute had put her in the hospital. Her boyfriend at the time, Jesse Foster, had been sentenced to only a year in prison, and given parole after serving only six months. By then, she’d already changed her name, and moved across the state.  
  
Several years later, her past had still managed to catch up with her. Jesse wouldn’t be getting away with a light sentencing this time. Hank would make sure of it.  
  
He paused outside of the Fowler residence, wishing he could be at home with Sumo instead of being forced to socialize in his off hours. He knocked, and it wasn’t long before Michelle was answering the door. She grinned as she stepped back. “You know, I thought you’d bail.”   
  
“Wishful thinking,” Hank said.   
  
“Nonsense,” she replied. “We love having you over.” She shut the door once he was inside. “Jeffrey’s nearly finished with dinner.”   
  
It was a good thing too. Hank’d been working since eight AM and had been so busy putting together the case against Jesse Foster that he’d worked through lunch, especially since Gavin was no goddamn help, but Hank kept his mouth shut about it. It didn’t look like Gavin and Connor had made up yet, not with how much time Gavin spent spacing out, and twirling his engagement ring around his finger.   
  
“Wine?” Michelle asked.   
  
He should have brought some as a gift, he used to when this kind of thing had been a more regular occurrence, but he’d barely had time to shower and put on a fresh pair of clothes after work and still make it to dinner on time. “Yeah, sure.”   
  
She led him into the kitchen, and crouched down checking the wine fridge. “If memory serves, you’re a red guy.” She pulled out a bottle of Pinot Noir, checking the label as if she knew anything about wine when he knew that she didn’t. Predictably, she stood and took it over to Jeffrey who was putting fucking garnish on their plates. “This one?”   
  
Jeffrey nodded. “That’s fine.” He then finally turned around. “You know, I half expected you to make an excuse last minute.”   
  
“Well, free meal,” Hank said with a shrug.   
  
Jeffrey let out a dry laugh at that.   
  
Their friendship was strong. The years they’d known one another, the moments that had bonded them far outweighed the bullshit fights, the weight of grief, and Hank’s alcoholism. It was easy for them to fall back into old dinner routines, like there hadn’t been a gap of years between this, and the last one.   
  
Michelle was still funny as ever. Hank and Jeffery could still have half a conversation just by side-eying one another. Dinner was delicious, and the wine left him relaxed, but not yet even into tipsy.   
  
He asked about the kids, saw Michelle’s concern before she masked it with a smile. “Well, Dominic is with his girlfriend-”  
  
It shouldn’t have surprised Hank, but it did. Dominic had been a scrawny fourteen year old the last time that he’d seen him. Of course, now that he was a teenager, probably grown into his lankly limbs and was out driving and having girlfriends.  
  
“He took my car,” Jeffrey said like it pained him. “I just paid it off. If he scratches it, I swear to God-”  
  
“It’ll be fine,” Michelle said, laying a hand on his arm. “He’s a good driver.” She sat a little straighter. “He learned from the best.”   
  
Jeffrey groaned. “You took out the mailbox.”  
  
“That was six years ago,” she argued. “Anyway, Sam is having a sleepover at his friends house this weekend. He said it was so that they could do a school project together, but I bet they’re just going to play video games, and eat way too much candy.”   
  
Hank’s phone started ringing. He pulled it out, and saw Noah’s name on the screen. They hadn’t spoken since the morgue, and  it didn’t feel right to ignore the call. He stood. “I’ll be right back.”   
  
“Just trying to get out of dishes,” Jeffrey teased as he and Michelle set to clear the table.   
  
Hank walked out through the sliding back door, and out onto the deck before answering. “Hello?”   
  
“Hello, Hank,” Noah greeted. He sounded happy enough, if a little tired. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”   
  
“No, just having dinner at a friends.”   
  
“I can call back another time.”   
  
“No, this is fine.” He leaned against the railing. “You got me out of dishes.”   
  
Noah chuckled. “You’re welcome, then.”  
  
“How are you?”   
  
“I’m fine,” Noah said, quick, reflexively. “This might sound weird, but did you know a Karl Ramirez?”   
  
Hank frowned. “Yeah, died a few years ago. I’m guessing you two had a meeting?”  
  
“Yeah, after the morgue. That kind of magic kind drew in all kinds of spirits, some of them followed us home. Officer Ramirez left, but he wanted me to pass along a message to his girlfriend. He was going to propose, hid the ring behind a loose baseboard in the guest room. He just really wanted to make sure that she knew he loved her.”   
  
“Wow.” That was not what Hank had been expecting.   
  
“I need you to talk to her.”   
  
“Me?”   
  
“Connor’s still not too pleased with me. Rhys is… anxious. I need to stay here until things calm down. Also, I didn’t get her name, so…”   
  
Hank groaned. “So you want me to dig up who he was dating when he died, and then track down and inform the girlfriend who might not even live in the same house?”   
  
“Well… yes? She deserves to know.”   
  
Hank sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do. Also, your information was right. Jesse Foster has been placed under arrest. We even found the murder weapon hidden away in his closet. He’s in jail now, awaiting sentencing.”  
  
He heard Noah exhale heavily, and it created a moment of static in the line. “Good.”   
  
“How have you been doing? Really, after… everything?”   
  
This time, Noah stayed quiet for a moment before he answered. “It’s more of a mental thing, remembering it, the violence and pain. It will fade with time. I want to ask you something,” Noah said, quick to change the subject. “How is Gavin?”  
  
“Sad, I think,” Hank replied. “How’s Connor?”   
  
“Honestly, I wouldn’t know. He’s working a lot, and we haven’t really buried the hatchet yet.”   
  
Hank took a deep breath. “Sorry to have gotten you into trouble with your brother.”   
  
“I made the decision,” Noah replied. “You don’t carry blame for my actions.”   
  
“I shouldn’t have asked, and even if I did, I should have gone through the proper channels.” Hank heard someone else’s voice on the line, but couldn’t make out the words.   
  
“I should let you get back to your dinner,” Noah said. “And I think I’m getting dragged into a game of Monopoly whether I like it or not.”   
  
“Not a fan of board games?”   
  
“Last time North lost, she set half the board on fire.”   
  
“One time!” was shouted, a woman’s voice, North defending herself Hank presumed.   
  
“I’ll… talk to you soon,” Hank said.   
  
“I’d like that,” Noah replied, a little soft. “Goodbye.”   
  
“Good Night, Noah.”   
  
He stayed out on the deck, phone still in hand for a while longer, trying to think of anything but that warm, fluttery feeling in his chest. “Indigestion,” he muttered the weak excuse to himself.   
  
By the time he went back inside, the dishes were done, and Michelle was on her third glass of wine, wiggling a faded pack of playing cards. “Ready to have your ass handed to you?”   
  
He smiled. “You can try.”   
  
::  
  
Noah was going to start preparing dinner when he heard the twins talking in the back room of the house. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, relatively certain he hadn’t been heard. He peeked around the wall and saw Connor sitting at the head of the table, his blazer draped over one of the other chairs, his head in his hands. Rhys sat in the chair next to him, back to Noah, leaning forward on his elbows.   
  
“Just call him,” Rhys insisted, his voice low, patient.   
  
“I _scared_ him,” Connor said, his voice choked a little, struggling with his emotions.   
  
Noah slowly sat down on one of the stairs. He was rarely privy to Connor’s pain, his eldest brother had built walls taller than most expected. His friendly and outgoing nature always put forth the picture of ‘everything is great, nothing to see here.’ Even under Amanda’s care, Connor maintained the illusion of ‘everything is fine.’   
  
Rhys sighed. “Gavin knows you have magic-”  
  
“But does he trust that I have control over it? Does he believe he’s safe with me? With the coven?” Connor sniffled a little. “Is he safe with me?”   
  
“Shit.” He heard chair legs shift. “Come here. You know he is. You have more control over your magic than anyone.”   
  
“That isn’t what I mean,” Connor replied, sounding a little muffled. “I’m a witch, and I’m the head of a coven. I- I don’t know that he-” Connor paused, he’d sounded a little watery at the end, and Noah imagined his brother trying to put himself back together. “My magic isn’t going away. This coven isn’t going away. I don’t know if he truly understands what that entails. Protecting this coven has to be my number one priority. I need him to be on my side. What he did, what he allowed Noah to do-”  
  
“Woah, hold up, Noah’s not a kid,” Rhys said. “He gets to make his own choices.”   
  
“Not like that he doesn’t,” Connor said, his voice sharp with his anger. “It was irresponsible, dangerous not only to himself, but to this coven! Not just with the spirits that we are _still_ dismissing by the way, but legally Captain Fowler could have called the Council about what happened. A witch, of unchecked power in a police station, practicing necromancy on a body? The media would have had a field day, and the Council… Goddess preserve me, do I really need to tell you how bad that could get? If the Council thinks I can’t control him?”   
  
The silence that followed was long, and heavy.   
  
“I still think you need to talk to Gavin.” Rhys made a ‘aht’ sound, which Noah knew he did to get people to stop talking before they could start. “He is your _fiance_ , you still love him, don’t you?”   
  
“Of course,” Connor said passionately. A sigh. “This isn’t about whether or not I love him.”  
  
“It’s the only factor that matters,” Rhys replied. “Talk to him instead of making assumptions.”   
  
Silence lingered, and Noah felt his magic creeping up inside of him, spilling in the stairwell, he pulled on it, trying to keep it under some kind of control.   
  
“It’s going to get worse.” Noah couldn’t tell which of the twins whispered it.   
  
“We’ll figure it out,” the other replied. “We have to.”   
  
Noah knew it was only a matter of time before one of his brother’s caught him eavesdropping, or his magic spilled out and gave him away. He stood and carefully climbed the stairs only to come back down, quickly with his full weight. He turned directly for the kitchen, pretending as though he hadn’t noticed them.   
  
“What’s for dinner?”   
  
Noah turned, his heart racing from all he’d overheard. Connor was staring out at the gardens, while Rhys had turned in his seat, smiling as though he hadn’t just been reassuring Connor about everything from his engagement, to their coven, to Noah’s questionable choice to assist Hank and the repercussions it could have.   
  
“I’m thinking a roast, with vegetables. There are only going to be a few of us home for dinner tonight.”   
  
“Oh, that reminds me,” Rhys stood, and walked over. “Chloe texted me earlier, she’s covering the receptionist at the shop tonight, so she won’t be home for dinner either.”   
  
Noah nodded as he opened the fridge. “Will you make the salad?”  
  
“Sure,” Rhys turned to wash his hands first.   
  
:::  
  
Chloe reached for the remote and turned off the movie as the credits rolled.  Noah remained still where he sat on the couch, North had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder halfway through the movie, and he hadn’t had the heart to wake her. Chloe smiled over at them from where she was bundled up with an thick knit blanket.   
  
Lights flashed by the front windows, illuminating the drops of rain trailing down the glass, and briefly lighting up the the room. “Who do you think that is?” Chloe asked softly, looking sleepy as she rubbed her eye with her fist. “Who’s even out tonight?”  
  
It was a good question. Connor was in the kitchen with his tablet, he’d brushed off their invitation to watch the movie with them in favour of working well past midnight. Markus, Josh, Simon, and Rhys had all gone to bed at a reasonable time since they all had early morning shifts.   
  
North nuzzled against his arm, and muttered something incoherent, which distracted him until the loud banging on the door made both him and North jump. A confused, ‘what’ left her mouth as her brow furrowed.   
  
Noah would have gotten up for the door, but he heard the stool in the kitchen scrape along the floor as Connor went and answered the door.  
  
“You’re avoiding my calls.” It was Gavin’s voice. Gavin, loud and angry at one thirty in the morning, showing up, refusing to be ignored.   
  
The blanket over Chloe bunched at her waist as she sat forward trying to get a look into the kitchen from where she sat, but he knew she’d have a bad vantage point. Both he and North were leaning as far back as they could on the couch to see the left shoulder of Connor, and the right of Gavin in the doorway.   
  
“What the hell is going on with us, huh?” Gavin asked, sharp and angry, his aura spiking. Noah could tell by the tones it wasn’t just anger, but panic.   
  
Noah felt a sick lurch in his stomach.   
  
Connor said Gavin’s name, quiet enough that it was nearly lost to the sound of the rain pouring down.   
  
Noah wanted to intervene, to spare both his brother and Gavin the pain in some way, but there was nothing he could do. North took his hand, squeezed it, and he just knew that she wanted to do the same; to protect Connor from something they had no business protecting him from.   
  
“If you’re done with me at least have the balls to say so.” Something ‘tinged’ off the floor and rolled by, glinting in silver. With that, Gavin was back out in the storm, but Connor ran out after him, barefoot and in his pajamas.   
  
Noah, North, and Chloe looked at each other, remaining mostly still for a long moment before they all dove out of their seats. The women both went immediately for the window, but Noah stopped in the entrance way, staring at the engagement ring on the floor.   
  
He ended up sandwiched between Chloe and North at the window, the three of them looking out at the front lawn, lit by the fact that Gavin had left his car running, the headlights illuminating the driveway and part of the lawn.   
  
The words were lost to the spectators, but Noah picked up on Gavin’s restless energy, all deep colours, and vibrating spikes. Connor’s aura was dim, and Noah read more in the body language, the way Connor reached for Gavin with both hands but never quite touched.  
  
He heard Gavin’s voice, barely, but couldn’t make out the words.   
  
”They’re fighting because of you.” Noah turned to dismiss the spirit, but there were none in the room. His heart pounded in his chest. _Not real, not real, not real_. He turned his attention back to the scene on the lawn.  
  
Connor covered his face with his hands, before they dragged down, his aura still dim, but shifting, flowing. Crying. He could only tell from the way Connor’s shoulders were practically vibrating. The realization that Connor was actually crying hit Noah like a punch to the gut.    
  
“It’s all your fault.” The voice said, but Noah didn’t turn, ignored his churning gut the best he could.   
  
Connor must have said something that gave the detective pause, his aura smoothing out around the edges.   
  
“We shouldn’t be spying,” North said, but made no effort to move.   
  
There was a back and forth between Connor and Gavin, talking and hand motions. Connor went on, and on, aura reaching, magic flaring, and he tucked his hands under his armpits, taking a step back, but his mouth kept going, kept talking, shoulders shaking. Noah wanted to help, to do something for his brother, but it wasn’t his place, all he could do was stand back and hope that he wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces later.   
  
Connor reached out, hand shaking.   
  
Gavin seemed to deflate, his energy ebbing a bit, but he didn’t take Connor’s hand. Instead, he stepped right into Connor’s space, into the magic Connor let slip, and wrapped his arms around Connor’s shoulders, pulling him close. Connor’s arms immediately wrapped around Gavin’s waist. More than anything, Noah focussed on the intense grip Connor had in Gavin’s jacket, like he was more terrified of letting go than anything else life could throw at him.   
  
“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Chloe asked in a soft whisper.   
  
“I don’t know,” Noah answered honestly. “I hope so.”   
  
“We should all go to bed before Connor gets back in here,” North said.   
  
As hard as it was, Noah stepped past the engagement ring that Gavin had thrown to the ground. At the stairs, Chloe and North went down while Noah went up.   
  
Rhys was already asleep in his bed, sprawled out, feet not covered by the blanket. Noah pulled the blanket down a bit so his brother was fully covered, and went to the dresser for his pajamas.   
  
“How was the movie?” Rhys asked, eyes still closed, and sounding half-asleep.   
  
“It was okay,” Noah replied quietly. “Gavin’s here.”   
  
“What?” That got Rhys’s attention. He sat up with his hair sticking up at odd angles. “They finally talk shit out?”   
  
“Something like that,” Noah replied, and quickly explained everything he’d heard, and witnessed since Gavin came knocking on the door.   
  
Rhys sighed heavily, but neither spoke, both freezing looking at one another when they heard the front door close. Rhys shoved off the blankets and walked over to the bedroom door, turning off the light before opening it a crack.   
  
Noah tip-toed over, looking over Rhys’s shoulder, they could see just enough from the downstairs light being left on that Connor wasn’t alone, and they were holding hands when they slipped into their room.   
  
Rhys turned the knob and slowly closed the door before releasing it. “Looks like they’re at least trying to work things out,” he said, sounding as relieved as Noah felt.   
  
:::  
  
In the morning, Gavin was still there, Connor kept looking at the man as though he kept expecting him to disappear. _Or leave._   
  
“Good morning,” Rhys said with a mocking amount of false cheer. “Gavin, good to see you, glad you two made up,” he said throwing his arms over both Gavin and Connor, smiling in the middle. “However, next time you want to have make up sex, try ball gags.”   
  
Noah bit his lip trying to contain his laughter. Simon wasn’t so lucky and  sputtered a laugh with a mouth full of cereal, and quickly wiped the milk dribbling down his chin with the back of his hand. Markus snorted into his coffee. Gavin’s face went red, and Connor glared at his twin.   
  
Rhys wore a smug grin as he left the couple in favour of pouring himself a travel mug of coffee. “I’ve got a funeral in the morning, and two afternoon wakes, so I won’t be home for dinner.”   
  
Noah nodded, knowing it was for his benefit since he did most of the cooking.   
  
“I’ll see you later then” Simon said to Rhys, gathering his bowl. “I’ve got two deliveries for the late Mr. Sanderson.”   
  
“Be glad you don’t have to deal with his widow,” Rhys replied. “What a bitch.”   
  
“She’s grieving,” Markus said, always with the empathy.   
  
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Rhys said, snapping the lid on his travel mug. “She seemed positively gleeful, told me all about the trip she was planning with the life insurance money, like she couldn’t get her hands on it fast enough. She didn’t seem at all bothered that her husband of twenty three years is dead. Anyway,” he looked out the front window, cursed. “North’s car is behind mine.”   
  
“I’ll move it,” Markus volunteered.   
  
The morning rush happened, most people left for work, and Noah left the kitchen a small scale disaster in favour of going to get some of his own work done.   
  
It had been a while since he painted in the garden, and it wouldn’t be much longer before the frost hit, and the leaves fell. From his desk, he took the bare minimum of supplies, toting it all down the stairs, and outside where Chloe was doing yoga on the grass.   
  
She turned her head to look at him from her position in Downward Dog, her ponytail dragging in the grass. “What are you up to?”   
  
“Thought I might do some sketching, maybe some painting.”   
  
She transitioned into a pose he didn’t know, her whole back one low curve, arms straight, only hands and toes touching the ground. He watched her for a while, picking apart the form, figuring out how he would draw the pose before she moved into a new one.   
  
He picked up the 2H pencil he preferred for preliminary sketches. Drew the starting lines for a rose. The roses in the garden were large, and healthy, in full bloom, it helped having two geomancers tend to them. When he finished the rose, he added clusters of other flowers he found aesthetically pleasing, but didn’t know the name of.   
  
After a while, Chloe joined him, sitting on the step next to him. She grabbed one of his other sketchbooks, and spread out his pencils until she found the one she wanted. They’d done this before, quietly losing themselves to their art together.   
  
He switched to a B for shading, and looked for his 6B until he realized that it was the one that Chloe was using. He watched the way she drew, her lines smooth, and confident.   
  
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out. One message. He quickly punched in his pin-code to unlock.   
  
HANK: Looks like Gavin and Connor made up.  
  
NOAH: It was all very dramatic.  
  
HANK: I didn’t get the story. He just looks happier.   
  
NOAH: I didn’t get the story either, but some of us were still awake when Gavin came over.   
  
HANK: I can’t believe I care, but I’m happy for them.  
  
NOAH: Me too.   
  
“Who are you texting over there?” Chloe asked, her tone light and teasing.   
  
Instinctually, he angled his phone away from her. He had two brothers after all. “Hank.”   
  
“Oh, dirty texts?”  
  
“What? No!”   
  
She laughed. “You turned your phone away. What? Is he sending dick pics?”   
  
“No!” he couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. “Of course not.”  
  
She blew a raspberry. “I was in the dating scene until recently. Unsolicited dick pics are frequent.”   
  
He grimaced. “He’s not sending me dick pics!”   
  
Chloe was practically cackling, and he turned his attention back to his phone when it vibrated in his hand.   
  
HANK: Asked around, Chris knew Karl pretty well. He says that his girlfriend’s name was Alana, and that she still lives in the same house. I’m going over there with Chris after work.  
  
NOAH: Thank you.   
  
HANK: You don’t have to thank me for this. A lot of people would be happy to hear from their deceased loved ones. I think she’s really going to appreciate this. Are you sure you don’t want to come?   
  
NOAH: I really shouldn’t. Connor won’t be pleased.   
  
He chewed nervously on his bottom lip. He had promised Rhys that he wouldn’t perform any powerful magic, even so, he wanted give Hank the chance to speak with Cole directly.   
  
HANK: I’ll let you know how it goes.  
  
NOAH: I appreciate it.   
  
When he put his phone aside, Chloe was watching him with a soft smile. He glared at her, suspicious. “What?”   
  
“You’re sweet on him,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Cute, cute, cute!”   
  
He rolled his eyes.   
  
“Are you two _dating_?” She asked like it was the most juicy gossip she’d heard all week, and she’d witnessed the entire Connor/Gavin make-up.   
  
“No.”   
  
She gave his shoulder a playful push. “You should let him know you’re interested.”   
  
He fought the urge to roll his eyes again. “Oh yeah, and how would I do that?”   
  
“I don’t know,” she gave him a wicked smile. “Send him dick pics?”   
  
“ _Chloe_!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took literal ages- also I ended up going hard on writing this and ultimately split the 12k for two more manageable chunks with better flow, so there won't be a super long wait for the next chapter ;)

Hank tried. He tried to stay busy. Tried not to pay attention to the days slipping further and further into October. Tried not to buy the whiskey at the corner store when he’d stopped for dental floss, and a bag of chips. 

The bottle sat on the kitchen table. Just because he tried, didn’t mean he had succeeded. He had a large photo album, still shut, on the table. Cole had been gone another year. He cracked open the seal on the whiskey, poured a couple fingers worth into the glass, a waste considering how he shot it back like it was water. He poured in some more. 

He opened the album. The first page a full sized picture, a happy family who had no idea what would follow. His ex-wife was beautiful, her hair a wild mess, absolutely exhausted but such love in her eyes as she stared down at the bundle in her arms. Hank’s arm around the two of them, every as adoring as they stared at their son. 

They didn’t know a few years down the road there would be a bitter divorce born of him working too much, her spending too much money, a burning resentment when she wanted another child, and he didn’t. If they had met when he was younger, if things had been different between them, more stable, then maybe it would have been a different conversation. Instead, the resentment became an insurmountable rift between them. 

He flipped the page. Cole, still in the hospital, wrapped up in a blue and white blanket, a knitted blue hat upon his head. Pictures of him with Cole. Of his ex-wife with Cole. Family members. Christmas. First birthday.

He had another drink as the pictures move into the toddler years. Cole with more hair, blond and curling up at awkward angles. Cole with more teeth in every smile. Standing unaided. Dressed up. Nothing but a diaper, waving his favourite toy in a blur. 

Another drink for the birthday cakes, and t-ball uniforms. For little suits, and grass stained jeans. School pictures and candids from home. A shot for a childhood ended far too early. 

His son had been his happiness, his entire world and purpose had been that little boy, and with him gone-

Taken. 

His son had been taken, before his time, and by a witch. 

  
::

It wasn’t uncommon for Noah to go days without sleep. Spirits could be loud, and demanding, and sometimes, just the feel of his own magic, of _things_ in the aether brushing along the edges of his magic left him feeling ill, and at a loss of control. 

His fingers shook with the exhaustion, and he put his pen down. He had a good portion of the illustrations he’d been commissioned to do finished, the deadline wasn’t looming over him, he still had a few weeks to complete the projects and the hours of sleeplessness had given him plenty of time to work. 

There were multiple spirits in the room. Some were talking to one another, their tones quiet, like the were at least trying to be respectful. Every once and a while, two children would run in, screeching and laughing, chasing one another. 

While he doubted his ability to actually sleep, his eyes were burning to the point that just closing them was a nice respite. As usual, he took the time to clean up his work station, leaving his inking pens in their jar, along with the row of other supplies. 

“Noah!” 

The sudden sharp cry of his name made him jump, hair stood on edge, as a chill down his spine. He took a second to just breathe, his heart racing in his chest, and  he looked over at the young spirit. “Hello, Cole.” 

“You have to go to Dad!” 

“What?” Noah glanced at the small clock on his desk. “It’s nearly two am-”

“He’s drinking-”

“Cole-”

“He has a gun!” 

Well that changed everything.

Noah wished he’d gotten some real sleep over the past forty hours. “Okay, okay,” he whispered, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Can’t drive,” he muttered to himself. And if he were to take a cab in the middle of the night his brothers would lose their minds. He could call the police- Hank wouldn’t appreciate it, and he absolutely could hold a grudge even if he was dead. 

“Noah, please,” Cole begged. “He needs help!” 

“I know, I-” he looked over to where Rhys was quietly snoring, sprawled out on the bed. He could convince Rhys to drive him, all it would take was a little white lie. First, he crouched down and his magic pooled at his hands, he reached out, and Cole, in absolute trust put his hands in Noah’s. “You need to rest for a while. I’ll take care of your dad.” 

“Okay,” Cole whispered. 

Noah softly pushed his magic in the most gentle dismissal of Cole’s spirit that he could manage. It wouldn’t be forever, but it would give him a window of not having to worry about Cole seeing anything should things go wrong. 

He unplugged his phone, and tucked it into his pocket before approaching Rhys’s side of the bed. “Hey, hey, wake up,” he whispered, poking at Rhys’s shoulder, and when that didn’t work, he jammed two fingers under his brother’s ribs. Rhys flailed a little, arm swinging, and hitting Noah in the chest. 

“Piss off,” Rhys muttered. 

“I need your help.” 

“Let me sleep.” 

“Hank called-”

“Good for him,” Rhys grabbed the pillow and pulled it over his head. 

Noah yanked the pillow away, throwing it to the foot of the bed, and tried not to let his annoyance show. “We were talking-”

“That’s what people typically do on the phone,” Rhys said, sounding a little more awake, and definitely irritated. He rolled into his back, and glared up at Noah. 

“No, we were like, you know, _talking.”_

Rhys squinted. “Are you trying to tell me that you were having phone sex?” He went from sleepy-confusion, to his nose scrunching in disgust. “I am in the fucking room-”

“No, well-” 

Rhys held up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”

“He wants me to come over.” 

For the most part, Noah cursed his big brother’s interest in getting him ‘devirginized’, but just this once it was going to work to his benefit. Rhys smirked. “Baby bro, finally gonna get laid,” he sat up, and swung his legs off the side of the bed. “You haven’t been tempered in a few days, you sure about this?” 

“Yes.” Noah glared. “Now can we go?”

“Do you need lube? Condoms?” Rhys raised a brow. “Did anyone ever give you the talk-”

“I swear to the Goddess herself, if you don’t shut up-”

“I’m helping you!” Rhys stood, stretched out, and Noah heard his shoulder pop. “Meet you at front door in five,” he said before shuffling off with a yawn. 

He couldn’t do anything but hope that he would get there in time. His smoke-like magic swirled around his hands, darkened the room, and he fought to get it under some semblance of control. He pulled his phone from his pocket and brought up Hank’s contact information. 

NOAH: I hope you’re okay.

He tucked his phone in his pocket, wishing it would chime. 

Luckily, he hadn’t bothered dressing down for the night, still being in a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt saved him from having to get changed. He grabbed a warm sweater from his closet thought, and pulled it on. 

“He’s going to die.”

He peeked up over the collar of the shirt, but none of the spirits were near him. He pulled the neck of the sweater down the rest of the way, and fixed the hem.

“He’s going to die.”

Noah felt breath on his ear. He quickly turned, but there was no one, nothing. 

Rhys popped his head back into the room, now dressed in black sweatpants, and a surprisingly plain sweater- likely Connor’s. “Are we going?” he whispered. 

Noah nodded, and quickly followed his brother from the room. They move as quietly as possible past the other bedrooms, and down the stairs. 

Rhys turned on the exterior lights, and looked outside. “Grab Chloe’s keys.” 

Noah grabbed them off the hook, shoved his feet into his shoes, and they walked out together. 

Everything felt like it was taking too long. Maybe he should have called the police. Would they really get there faster though? Rhys drove cars like he’d been caught stealing them, and the coven was closer to Hank’s house than the precinct.

He got into the car, and shut his eyes, felt the car moving. Rhys had a lead foot, and Noah was jerked back in the seat at the the sudden acceleration. 

Every minute that went by was another minute thinking the worst. 

“He’s going to die.” Noah struggled not to move, not to open his eyes, not to cover his ears. “He’s going to die, and it’s going to be your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault.”

He was scared, so scared, and when the car stopped, he felt like he might heave up his dinner on the lawn. 

“You good?” Rhys asked, gently swatting Noah’s arm. “Look, you don’t have to do this-”

“Just keep Connor off my back,” Noah requested. “I have my phone. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah,” Rhys replied. 

Noah pushed open the door, only to have Rhys call his name. He stuck his head back in the car. “What?” 

“Don’t forget to wear protection-”

“Rhys!”

“Or, make sure he does!” Rhys said putting his hands up. “I don’t care which way you do it, just do it safely.”

“Go the fuck home,” Noah replied, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. 

Noah walked across the grass, looking back to see his brother driving off, tires squealing. Noah tried the door first, knocking for a good twenty seconds straight, before holding down the doorbell multiple times, but nothing. 

He reached for the aether, afraid of what he’d find. He didn’t _feel_ death here, but the death echo depended on how one died, how prepared one was, if it was violent or peaceful, if a spirit departed or lingered. His sense didn’t guarantee anything. 

After getting no response, he rushed over to the front window, and stood on his tip-toes to get a look in. Hank was on the floor, not moving. He ran around the side of the house, checked the back door, finding it locked as well. The window was low enough that he could get through but it didn’t budge as he tried to open it from the outside. 

There were stones around what once must have been a garden, but there was nothing but dirt within it’s outline. He grabbed a rock that was a little bigger than his hand and slammed it into the window, the glass shattered inward, and he dragged the stone along the bottom of the pane, trying to get the worst of the shards down before he dropped it to the ground.

Sumo barked, as Noah raised his arms, nearly putting his hand on the glass before pulling his sweater off first. With the sweater folded over itself and placed over the worst of the glass, he pulled himself in, falling in his haste, and rolled on the glass. He cursed through bared teeth but his attention shifted from his own pain, to Hank still on the floor. 

“Hank?” 

The man didn’t move, but at least Noah could see the gentle rise and fall of Hank’s breathing. A stuttered breath escaped him as the relief hit his system. Hank was alive. Everything else he could deal with. Hank was alive. 

Noah pulled out a bigger shard of glass from his hand, and magic pooled in the wound. Magic ppilled from him, clawed along the walls, smoke and shadows on the floor, and walls. To Hank. And he could feel the rhythm of the man’s heart through it. 

Sumo barked from the edge of the kitchen. “I’m not going to hurt him, Sumo. I’m here to help.” Not that his words mattered to the dog, who continued barking and whining, but didn’t enter the kitchen, not even for Hank would the dog brave the magic. 

Noah walked closer, through the shadows, and crouched down. “Hank?” he gently touched the man’s shoulder. Like with his brother, he jammed a couple fingers under Hank’s ribs. “Wake up!”

Hank jolted, eyes opening but clearly disoriented. After a few seconds he stared at Noah. “What _the fuck_ are you doing here?” 

“Good to see you too,” Noah replied dryly, grabbing the man’s arm and pulling it over his shoulders. “Come on,” he pulled Hank into a sitting position, and adjusted his stance a little. “I need you to work with me a little.” 

“Get the fuck out of here.” Hank’s aura spiked, fueled with rage. 

Noah considered it briefly, but remembered Cole, saw the gun on the floor, it had ended up under the table, the bottle of whiskey on it’s side. “Stand,” he ordered, his patience frayed with his own worry, and fear. He stood, and Hank got up with him, swaying heavily into his side, enough to knock Noah off balance for a second. “Okay, bedroom.” 

“I don’t need you,” Hank said, trying to pull his arm away, nearly pulling them both into the wall. 

“Good,” Noah replied in a huff as he barely managed to keep them on path for the room at the end of the hall. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” Hank slurred.  

“I’m just helping you to bed, that’s all.” He guided Hank toward the bed by the light from the hallway. No point in bringing up Cole, not now. 

Hank collapsed onto the bed, rolling onto his back, hair dishevelled, eyes narrowed. “A witch killed my son.” 

Noah’s chest felt tight. “You- you need to lay on your side, in case you get sick.” 

“A witch killed Cole.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said on a whisper, his voice refusing to cooperate, eyes burning, his magic flaring out, clawing along the walls despite his attempts to hold it in. 

Hank rolled onto his side, stared into the darkness of Noah’s shadows. “It wasn’t you.”

Noah felt something in him loosen as he stood there, watching as Hank fell to sleep. 

::

Sunlight filled the room, but at least he wasn’t on the floor. Hank groaned as he rolled onto his back, and dragged a hand over his face. He didn’t remember how he managed to get to bed, the whole night was a blur of pictures, whiskey, and that unfairly empty _‘click.’_ It always made him a little sick when he sobered up, that he’d played with death and- Won? Lost? He still wasn’t sure. 

Upon sitting up, he noticed a glass of water and a few aspirin on his bedside table. He squinted at it, he never had that kind of foresight, but took them, hoping they would take care of his pounding headache. 

Only then was he awake enough to notice the noises coming from the other side of the house. Not Sumo, but the sounds of utensils, and footsteps, and with it came the scent of bacon. _What the fuck._ Hank hadn’t been out of the house, so he hadn’t brought anyone home with him- and it had been years since he’d even tried. Jeffrey had a key to his house, but it didn’t make sense for him to actually use it. 

Hank looked down at himself, still in the clothes from the day before, a bit of whiskey dried on his shirt, the scent of it nearly made him gag, and he quickly pulled it off, and changed into the first clean t-shirt he grabbed out of the drawer, the band logo was faded out, but the cotton was soft. 

Considering whoever was in the kitchen seemed to be making breakfast, and had left him with water and pills, Hank felt secure enough not to worry about getting murdered, and went to the bathroom first, feeling mildly more human when he left. 

He dragged his feet in the hall, wondered if he’d managed to put the gun away before his mystery guest had shown up. He peeked into the kitchen, Noah had his back to him, facing the stove, there were a few pieces of toast on a plate, a few pieces of bacon on another. Sumo was at Noah’s side, and Hank watched as the witch tore a piece of bacon and held it out for Sumo who took it and licked Noah’s hand. 

There was a garbage bag taped over his window. 

“Did you break my window?” 

Noah calmly turned. “Yes. I didn’t have a lot of options, the doors were locked and you were unconscious on the floor.” He turned back to the stove and took whatever he’d been cooking off of the stove. “Now sit down, your breakfast is ready.” 

Hank remained in the doorway, looking around for evidence of the night before. His floors looked as though they’d been mopped, the photo album had been set on the counter, far from the cooking area. The bottle of whiskey and his gun were nowhere to be seen. 

Noah set down the plate, an egg-white omelet with green stuff, and toast. “This should be plain enough not to make you feel ill.” 

“Why are you here in the first place? What the fuck are you doing here, Noah?” 

Magic seeped from Noah’s hands, and Sumo whined, skittering away from the witch, even the scent of bacon no longer keeping him close. “Cole came to me.” The magic seemed deeper, darker. “He was scared, Hank. Your actions scared him and he knew he could talk to me, and that I could get to you.” 

The words hit with the intensity of a punch to the gut. “He saw that?” 

“You were thinking of him, looking at pictures of him,” he gestured to the album. “You drew his spirit in, and _he was scared._ ” 

“I-I didn’t mean, I didn’t know.” The whiskey threatened to make an encore appearance. 

“Please, eat,” Noah insisted, he returned to the plate of bacon, and shifted his attention to getting back it Sumo’s good graces. 

Hank didn’t think the dish looked particularly appetizing but sat down anyway. He poked the green bits with his fork. “Is that spinach?”

“Yes.”

“I guarantee I didn’t have spinach in this house.”

“I walked to the market this morning. Sumo needed to go out.” He held out a piece of bacon, as the shadows receded. “Two birds, one stone. 

Hank ate a bit of the omelet, and half a slice of toast before pushing the plate away. “You didn’t have to come,” he said softly. 

“You needed someone.” Noah rubbed his arm, and Hank noticed the bandage on his hand. “You scared _me_. For a moment, I wasn’t sure… if you were alive or not.” His magic seeped out again, but this time Sumo took the bacon before running to the living room. “Cole told me you had a gun, but I didn’t see blood.” The shadows tilted left, then violently to the right. “You weren’t moving, and I knew you’d been drinking and-” 

Hank wanted to say something that could make it better, but couldn’t find the words. 

Noah joined him, sitting to his right. “I have a strange relationship with death,” he said, adjusting the gauze wrap on his hand. “I wouldn’t say I have an understanding of it, or at least no more than anyone else does, but perhaps more comfort with it, and yet… I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared of it before.” Noah finally looked up at him, his bright blue eyes a little glossy. “If you want to talk, I’m here. I- I get it, I understand-”

“You don’t understand _this_ ,” Hank snarled, even as his stomach twisted and his heart clenched. 

Noah looked back down at his bandaged hand. “And what don’t I get, Hank? Loss? Death?” He paused, and glared at Hank. “Wanting to die?”

Hank stood, his chair wobbling in his haste. He stormed out of the room, trying to get control over his temper. It wasn’t a retreat. It wasn’t. It didn’t matter anyway, because Noah followed him, refusing to be ignored. Hank turned around just to glare at the witch. Magic crept along the wall that Noah leaned his shoulder against, arms crossed. 

“You’re not a parent!” Hank snapped. “You can’t understand that type of loss!” 

“You’re right, I’m not a parent,” Noah said calm as ever. “But what? You want to turn this into a competition? Whose losses hurt more?” 

“Just… get out.”

“I can’t.” 

Hank glared at him, and Noah looked uneasy. 

“I don’t drive, remember. I’d have to call Rhys, since he dropped me off-”

His stomach churned. “You told your brother about this-”

“No, I didn’t think you’d appreciate it.” Noah sighed, and avoided eye contact. “I may have told him that we were going to have sex-”

“What?” The word slipped out a little harsher than necessary, but it shocked him to hear. 

“He’s not going to say anything,” Noah muttered, fussing with the bandage on his hand. “And what else was I going to tell him to get him to drive me here at two in the morning?” 

Hank pushed his hand through his hair. “I need another drink.”

“There is no longer alcohol in your house,” Noah warned. “There is water and cola in the fridge though.”

“You little shit.” Hank sat down on the couch, put his aching head in his hands. He felt Noah’s slow approach. His magic encroached upon the space first, soft like a baby blanket, and it nearly made Hank cry. 

Noah sat down slowly, like Hank might spook. Instead, Hank just dropped his hands from his face, and glared at the witch, at least the shadows were somewhat under control. Noah was silent for a long moment, opening and shutting his mouth like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. 

“Just spit it out,” Hank snapped.

“I tried to kill myself for the first time when I was eleven.” 

That wasn’t at all what Hank had been expecting. His heart raced, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There was so much wrong with that sentence. The ‘first time’ implied there was others, and ‘eleven,’ just a kid- “Noah-”

“My power had grown, and Amanda wasn’t tempering me as much as I felt I needed,” Noah kept his eyes on the gauze wrap around his hand, pulling at it, and smoothing it down. “I kept seeing and hearing-” he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, I just- I didn’t want this kind of power. I was scared, and I just wanted to stop being scared. I knew already that death awaited me, average age for a Nines is only in the mid-twenties. I thought I’d be better off, that my brothers would be better off if I just-” 

He looked over at Hank, and the glassy look in Noah’s eyes left Hank shaken. “Rhys found me,” Noah admitted in a horrified whisper. “I don’t remember much, but I’d collected every pill in the house, holed up in my room, took them all. I remember Rhys shoving his fingers down my throat, and a lot of vomiting. Rhys was crying, screaming for Amanda. The point I’m trying to make is, I understand wanting to die. I understand any kind of afterlife or reincarnation sounding better than here and now. I understand that sometimes this plane of existence is fucking hell on Earth.” 

The pause was long enough that Hank raised a brow. “What no inspiring ‘stay alive’ speech?” 

Noah gave a little shrug of just one shoulder. “The thing I remember most is Rhys, how he held me, how he screamed for help from the one person he hates most, and yet knew she was the one who might be able to save me- I never want my brothers to have to go through that again.” But Noah had already, inadvertently admitted that hadn’t been the last time, but Hank didn’t want to pry. “There are a lot of people I wouldn’t have met, or things I would never have done if I’d succeeded, and I hate to think of what it would have done to my brothers. But I understand, and you’re not alone, and- and I really hope you just-” he reached out like he was going to grab Hank’s hand and then thought better of it, clasping his hands together instead. “Just stay. You’re a good man, with a good heart. The world needs that. People like me need that.” 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing Noah’s knee, his hand right next to Noah’s. “The world needs people like you too.” He couldn’t help but think of the way Noah had looked on the threshold of his bathroom, holding the towel, the soft smile and dripping wet hair, profoundly polite. Noah on his doorstep with a bag of freshly laundered clothes, and a fruit bouquet. So many little moments, kind texts, the way he wanted to help even if it meant putting himself at risk. Hank wanted to say something nice, something reaffirming, especially when Noah had put himself on the line to being so vulnerable and honest with him but his mind finally caught up with one little detail and he felt his heart trip out of beat. “What… what did you mean about average age of-” he didn’t even finish the sentence, Noah’s sad upturn of the corner of his mouth said enough. 

“Exactly what I said. Average age of a Nines is twenty five. I’ve already surpassed it by four years.” 

“But- what? Why?” 

“Our power just eventually gets the better of us, it is more powerful than we are, and it kills us.” Noah’s fingers brushed against Hank’s, and he watched as soft tendrils of smoke wove between their fingers. “It’s okay, I’ve known basically my whole life, I’ve made peace with it.”

“Well I haven’t!” Hank couldn’t believe that Noah, who appeared perfectly healthy in front of him was essentially dying, running on borrowed time. “Isn’t there something that Council of yours can do? Or Connor, why isn’t he doing anything?” 

“Hank,” Noah grabbed his hand, paused and seemed shocked by his own action, staring at their hands for a moment before he looked back over at Hank. “The Council considers it a lost cause. Connor… Connor is looking but he just isn’t going to find what he’s looking for because it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“Back a couple hundred years ago there were more witches, more branches of witchcraft. One branch, the Sentinels didn’t really have practical magic of their own, but they could either enhance or temper other witches- specifically Covens kept them to temper their Nines, however the Sentinels on their own were pretty much defenseless and at the height of the witch trials,” he shrugged. “They were one of the branches that died out. Connor would say ‘theoretically.’ But, there are a few branches that haven’t been recorded in centuries. They’re gone.” 

Hank felt himself grasping for something to hold onto, some shred of hope. “What about a potion or something?”

Noah smiled softly. “No. Again, theoretically, maybe in some old grimorire there is a potion, or a sigil, or something that could be done, but,” he shook his head. “Connor is looking for an solution where there isn’t one, because when I’m gone he needs to know he did everything he could, but there have been hundreds of years of people like me just succumbing to their own magic, no one has found a way to stop it.” 

It’s not fair. Not fair for someone as kind and sweet as Noah to live with such a short timer on his life, to be trapped by his own power. Hank realized he was holding Noah’s hand tightly, but the witch didn’t seem to mind, in fact he wore a soft little smile staring at their hands. 

“I didn’t say thank you, did I? I appreciated waking up in bed. And the aspirin was a nice touch.” 

Noah smiled a little sadly, his hand tightening around Hank’s. “If you ever feel that way again, please call me. Don’t- please don’t go.” 

“Would it matter-”

“You matter!” 

And Hank felt a pressure in the room as magic flooded it, the living room darkening for a moment before it seemed to be pulled back in but Noah’s eyes fluttered as he wavered a moment, and Hank’s free hand grabbed him by the shoulder. 

“Woah, you okay?” 

Noah nodded, but leaning slightly into Hank’s grip. “A little tired is all.” 

Hank frowned. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“No, I go through bouts of insomnia,” Noah admitted, and the dark circles under his eyes made sense. “And then I was here, and I just- I had to stay wake… just in case.” 

“Do you want to lay down a bit?”

Noah shook his head. “I’m okay.”

Hank let his hand drop from Noah’s shoulder, but his other was still caught in a death grip. They were quiet for a long moment, and Hank felt like he could admit anything to Noah. “Yesterday was the anniversary of Cole’s death.” 

Noah’s thumb brushed along his knuckles, and that soft magic, magic that once would have had him spitting hatred, and pulling away was a now a comfort along his skin. “I know,” Noah said softly.

“He told you?”

“No, his obituary was at the back of the album.” 

“Oh.” Hank’s headache was fighting back against the aspirin. “I miss him.” He pulled his hand away. Taking comfort from a witch felt wrong. “The accident should never have happened, it was a warm day- there shouldn’t have been fucking ice on the road.” 

Noah clasped his hands together again. “Ice- oh, I remember hearing about this.” 

“Your fucking Council protected the witch. I don’t even know if they got in the least bit of trouble for what they did.” 

“Do you really want to know?” Noah asked, a slight tremor in his voice. 

“Yes.” 

“The Council relinquished her to her coven, but she was to be kept there exclusively, and if it was found that she left the house, she would be executed.” 

“So house arrest? My son died, and she gets house arrest?”

“Her name was Sara,” Noah pressed his thumb into the center of the gauze on his hand. “She was seventeen, and she drowned in bed a couple nights later.” 

Hank’s jaw dropped open, and he glared down at the floor. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. “Seventeen?”

“Seventeen. Verdicts out on if her magic overpowered and killed her, or if it was suicide. Her lungs just… filled with water.”

It sounded absolutely horrifying. “She- she was just kid.”

Noah jumped, shoulder bumping into Hank’s as Noah’s head turned toward the kitchen so fast it startled Hank. “Noah?” Noah looked paler when he looked back  at Hank, wide-eyed like he’d been frightened by something. “Are you okay?”

Noah bristled once again at something Hank couldn’t see. “Yes,” Noah said through his teeth. 

“Doesn’t look it,” Hank said, looking toward the kitchen like he might be able to see what had spooked Noah so bad. “Is my house haunted?”

“No,” Noah said putting his face in his hands, but his shoulders were still damn near up to his ears. “It’s just… me. I-I need to call Rhys. I need to see Connor.” 

“Okay, I’ll drive you home,” Hank said in a voice he usually reserved for traumatized children at crime scenes. “It’s the least I can do.” And he wanted to see Noah safely home. 

Noah pulled his phone out of his pocket, and Hank noticed just how bad his hands were shaking. Noah looked over at him, eyes watering, brows pinched, looking horribly hurt. “What did you say?”

He gently put his hand on Noah’s forearm. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“Oh,” the word came out a broken sob. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re okay-”

“I’m not. I’m really not. It’s getting worse, and I- I’m sorry.” 

Hank didn’t think, not in the moment of Noah crying on his couch next to him, he just cupped the back of his neck, drew him into a hug that Noah went into easily, dropping his phone between them, a death grip on the back of Hank’s shirt, tears wetting the shoulder. “You’re alright,” Hank said like he could will it so, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over his neck and back.

The mental toll wasn’t something Hank had ever given consideration to, and Hank wasn’t one-hundred percent sure what was even going on. The pieces of information he had didn’t make a full picture, but he hadn’t made lieutenant for nothing. He knew enough, _saw enough._

It took a few minutes but Noah pulled himself together, pulled back, his eyes red and puffy from crying. “My phone,” he said, and Hank noticed it vibrating on the cushion. Noah did a quick wipe of his face, before grabbing it. Hank saw the caller ID of RHYS before Noah swiped the answer button. “Hi.” 

Hank didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but either Rhys was awfully loud or Noah had his phone settings turned up. “So did you get devirginized?”

“Piss off.” 

“Are you crying?” The playful lilt of Rhys’s voice was gone, hardened- he sounded more like Connor this way. “Did he-”

“No, I just- I need Con.”

“Fuck! He’s working the Alden wedding. You know how those weirdos are about technology. Can Hank drive you home?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll drive to their coven house, bring Con home. Might be able to get Markus home quicker.”

Noah flinched. “No. Connor, it has to be Connor.” 

“Put Hank on the phone.” 

Noah held the phone out to Hank. “He wants to talk to you.” 

Hank took the phone, and wanting to save time, didn’t wait for Rhys to reexplain everything he’d already overheard. “Noah’s phone is loud, I heard everything, I’ll get him home.” 

“Good, you might see some weird shit. He might say some weird shit, or be confused, disoriented. He might not even recognize you as you. He’ll be a bit better in the coven house because of the sigils, but it won’t last, just keep him inside, don’t let him near anything dangerous.”

Hank’s heart dropped. “How bad does this get?”

“Real fucking bad,” Rhys said, sounding tired. “Just get him home. Please.”

“I will.” He hung up, and passed the phone back to Noah. “Come on.” He grabbed Noah by the hand and pulled him up. “Shoes. Did you bring a coat?”

“No.” 

“Okay, get your shoes on, I’ll get my keys.”

Hank only ever put his keys in three places, and found them where he expected, in the kitchen. When he got to the door, Noah was already waiting with his shoes on, magic flaring around his hands, clawing along the walls near him. Instinct said to back away, but Hank reached past and opened the door. Noah didn’t need prodding, he went out into the morning, head down, walking with long strides, the darkness clinging to him, following. 

The magic settled a little in the car, but it still unnerved him. “Think you can keep your magic a bit more under control?”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Hey,” he grabbed Noah’s hand, squeezed tightly, hoping to give the man something grounding, something outside of the smoky magic, and the darkness of his mind. “I just need to be able to see out the windshield, okay, just-” he was a little surprised when the magic abated slightly. “Good.” 

“Drive fast,” Noah warned, his fingers gripping Hank hard enough to bleed his knuckles white. “I just wanted to help. I’m sorry. I made it worse, I’m sorry, Hank.” 

“You helped, Noah, you’re always helping,” he replied in a bit of a panic. It was an awkward reach to shift gear into drive, but he managed, and drove one handed, trying to keep a focus on the road while smoke waved in his peripheral vision. He glanced at Noah, saw the man’s eyes closed tight. “Okay, distraction time, what kind of music do you listen to?”

“Depends,” Noah replied. “A bit of everything. Prefer instrumental when I’m working. Rock during workouts. I usually just put on random playlists when I’m cooking to hear new stuff. You?”

“Metal and jazz mostly. A bit of rock.” Hank noticed the distraction had brought a brief respite of new magic flooding the car. He tried thinking of another conversation topic, but he was terrible at small talk. He usually talked to people about corpses, and alibis. “Uh, do you read?” 

“Yes.” 

He glanced at Noah whose grip managed to tighten. Hank needed something more demanding of Noah’s attention, something more distracting than books. “Uh, did Rhys actually say ‘devirginize.’” He took a quick look, and Noah had flushed pink, and the magic seemed to shrink toward Noah like it was trying to protect him, darkening as it became thicker. 

“Of course you’d overhear that.”

“Seriously? You? Never?”

Noah frowned. “I see dead people wherever I go, Hank. No.” 

And only because the magic seemed to dissipate a bit did he press. “Ever go on a date?” 

“No.” 

“Hard to believe.”

“I’m a Nines, I lack control, I’m losing my mind, I’ll die before thirty five, why the fuck would anyone want me.”

And Hank had lost control of the situation just that fast. His heart clenched and he got a hint of just how lonely life for Noah must be. He needed to course correct. “Because you’re kind, you’re literally the nicest person I’ve ever met, you go out of your way to help people, you’ve gone way out of your way to help me even though I’ve… I haven’t always been nice to you in the past. You’re loyal, to your brothers, your coven. You’re a great cook.” He looked over, weighed the look Noah wore of concentration, unsure if he’d won him over to believing in his worth or not. However, in listing all those things, Hank realized just how deeply he meant every word, they were the reasons his mind kept circling back to Noah, even when he tried to stop them from doing so, and one more. “Good looking too.”

Noah wore a shocked expression when he looked at Hank, eyes wide, then quickly shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You okay?” he asked, trying not to panic at the limited space in which he could see through the windshield, the shadows slowly curling back toward Noah. 

“Yeah, just need to keep my eyes shut for now. It’s- it’s fine.” Noah took a deep breath, his magic soft as it brushed along their fingers, still linked. “Did you mean it?” 

“That you’re a good cook?”

Noah smirked. “Yeah, sure.” 

“I don’t know, I think you need to cook for me again, just so I can make an informed choice.” 

“Okay.”

“It’s a date,” the words were out of his mouth before he really thought them through, but he didn’t dare take them back. 

“Is this pity?” 

Was it? Hank risked a glance at their hands. “No.” 

“I can’t trust this.”

“What?”

“I- when I’m- I can’t trust this right now. Ask me when I’m tempered. When I’ll believe it- if you still mean it.”

His heart ached for Noah. “I will. We’re almost there.”

Noah trembled. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm now on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DaydreamsGolden) and as per usual, I'm hanging out over at on [ Detroit: New ERA ](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) there’s lots of fics, and fanart, and fun, so come join us <3


	9. Chapter 9

Hank swore that driving Noah home was the longest drive of his life. He let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway and turned the car off. “Let’s get you inside.” He let go of Noah’s hand, and the young man got out of the car in a rush, his hand patting down his pocket, muttering. 

“What?”

“Didn’t grab keys.” 

“Is no one home?”

The door swung open before they even got to it. North stood there, waving them inside. “Rhys said you’d be coming home before he rushed off. How are you feeling?”

Noah didn’t answer though, shadows spilled over the floors, looking sharp but were soft where they touched Hank’s legs. Noah’s shoulders slumped, eyes half closed, dark shadows under his eyes, and cheekbones. He looked up at Hank. “You don’t have to stay.” 

But he did. It wasn’t the guilt that his own behaviour had kept Noah up all night, and that might have played into what was happening to the witch now, it weighted on Hank, but it wasn’t why he stayed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Noah flinched away from something, shadows playing tricks on his mind because Hank swore he saw something. 

“Holy shit,” North muttered next to him, and maybe it wasn’t a trick, not if she saw it too. He looked to her, and found her eyes wide, jaw slack, her own magic was building around her hands, not the smoke of the Arkay brothers, but flames all her own, a light pushing back at the darkness. 

Noah didn’t say anything, just turned and stalked off, unsteady, bumping into the counter, then the wall. Hank did the only think he could think of, he followed.  “Maybe you should lay down?” Hank suggested, wrapping his arm around Noah’s waist when the man nearly took a step back on the stairs. “Careful!” 

Hank followed Noah’s line of sight, his magic had filled the void of the stairwell, and at the top of the stairs, a shadowy figure tall and wispy. The figure twitched, it’s right arm moving in an inhuman angle. 

“What the fuck,” Hank stared in horror, rooted to the spot. 

Noah surged forward, and Hank could feel the magic, a rush, something charged in the air. Noah stormed up those last few stairs and reached for _the thing_ , shoving magic into it until it was no more. The space seemed lighter, Noah’s magic softer. 

“What the fuck was that?” Hank asked, but was once again ignored as Noah stumbled a few steps, paused, reached out for the wall. 

Hank hurried to Noah’s side, looking down the hall, half expecting some other shadow creature to be lurking, but saw nothing. He turned to Noah to find him crying, shoulders halfway up to his ears, hands up like he wanted to ward something from getting closer. 

“I’m not,” Noah said softly, pleading. “No, I’m not, I’m not.” 

Hank grabbed his arm and Noah pulled away with enough force that he fell back against the wall, and slid down it until he sat there, softly muttering as he stared at something across the space, even when Hank crouched in front of him, and waved his hand, Noah’s eyes didn’t track the movement. 

Hank heard the door slam open downstairs- Connor or Rhys’s voice even though he missed the words. 

One of the Arkay twins dashed up the stairs two at a time, and the other wasn’t far behind. One of them cursed. The other crouched next to Hank, reached for his brother, magic spilling from his hands, Connor. Noah tried to throw himself back from it, only there was no where to go, his head hit the wall hard enough to dent the drywall. Connor didn’t give his brother a chance to do it again, putting a hand on his chest, the other managing to slip around Noah’s head, holding where he had hurt himself. 

“I’ve got you, you’re okay,” Connor whispered, as dark tendrils of magic appeared to seep into Noah’s body, and like the last time Hank had witnessed the tempering, Noah slowly succumbed to sleep. Connor shifted back, and fell ungracefully on his ass. Hank might have laughed under different circumstances. 

Connor glared over at Hank. “And what are you doing here? I thought I made it clear-”

“Cut the shit,” Rhys said standing tall over them all. “He’s here because Noah wants him to be. Give little brother a break. He’s allowed to have… friends.” 

Connor stood, swayed a little, and Rhys’s hands shot out to steady his twin. They both wore black slacks, and white button ups, their hair was even styled the same and appeared more identical to Hank than ever before. 

“You’re bleeding.” Rhys pointed under his nose, and Connor mirrored the action, only Connor’s fingertips came away bloody. 

“I just-” Connor swayed back, and Rhys’s fingers tightened, shifting his stance to keep his twin upright. “I-I-”

“Con!”

“’M ‘kay.”

“Hey,” Gavin’s familiar voice called before he came up the stairs. “North said- Connor!” Gavin rushed to his fiance, and gently tipped his head back. “What happened?”

“I- I just over did it a little.”

Gavin pulled Connor into his arms, and Connor became docile, soft, not the hardened Coven leader he was whenever he addressed Hank. Gavin frowned, and looked over at Rhys, raising a brow. 

“Noah’s outgrowing the coven,” Rhys said in way of explanation. “Get Con to bed, he needs the sleep. I’ve got Noah.”

Gavin nodded, offered Hank a sad smile, and led Connor to their room. 

Rhys watched them until the door closed, and then turned to Hank. “Mind giving me a hand with him? He’s heavier than he looks.” 

Noah looked so soft in his sleep, and Hank just wanted to care for him, remembering the water and aspirin left at his bedside. “I’ve got him,” Hank said, shifting to get a good grip on Noah before lifting. His back protested, and Rhys wasn’t kidding when he said that Noah was heavier than he looked, but he didn’t waver, not with Noah’s head resting on his shoulder, soft, even breaths against his neck. “Which room?”

“Follow me,” Rhys said with a little smirk as he led them down the hall and to the right. Rhys opened the door and went to pull down the blankets on the nicely made bed. The room was orderly, a desk set up with various jars full of pens and markers, neat stacks of paper were on the desk, but Hank didn’t have time to investigate. He laid Noah down, and Rhys took the time to remove Noah’s shoes before pulling the blankets over him. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” 

Hank sat down on the bed. There were no shadows moving, nothing unsettling or unreal, just Noah, sleeping peacefully. There was a framed picture on the night stand, and Hank picked it up. The three teenage brothers, shoulder to shoulder, arms around each other, smiling for the camera. Noah had an inch, maybe two over his brothers now, but then the height difference was more comical since Noah appeared to have hit his growth spurt first, standing a head over the twins. He set the framed picture back. 

On the dresser was a white candle, a couple of small crystals, some pocket change in a little dish, and a package of pastels. 

He was about to check out the desk when Rhys returned, and shut the door. He went right to the window and opened it all the way, and sat down in the window sill, a joint and lighter in hand. “Thanks for bringing him home.”

‘I didn’t have much of an alternative,’ was on the tip of his tongue, the old snap back, pain morphing into rage directed at witches, blaming the whole for the actions of one, for an accident outside of anyones control. “I wanted him safe,” he said, it’s honest, even if it burned all the way down. 

Rhys lit the joint, inhaled deeply, and held it out the window before he blew the smoke outside, making the obvious attempt to keep it as out of the room as possible, but Hank frowned at the scent. 

“What was it that I saw? In the shadows?” Hank asked. 

Rhys cursed, took a long drag off the joint and held it in his lungs long enough to make Hank want to cough. Rhys blew the smoke out the window again, coughed a little, cursed again. “Depends. Were you touching him?”

At first he had been, Hank recalled steadying Noah when he’d gone to take a step back on the stairs, but Noah had charged forward, his magic filling the space but Hank had still seen _whatever it was_ , and he told Rhys as much. 

“There are things in the aether—they can’t affect things here, not technically—they need something connected to both here and the aether to… jump from one place to the other.” 

“Noah.”

“Overpowered witches in general,” Rhys replied. “Any of them are open and vulnerable, Necromancers even more than the others.” 

“But what was it?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Rhys replied. “The reality is we don’t know. Most believe they’re old, dark spirits that never crossed over and their souls just twisted into creatures that want to feed on magic or chaos. Others believe demons. There were some old religions that believed they were old Gods trapped away in the aether and want their revenge,” Rhys wiggled his fingers like he was telling some spooky ghost story to children. “I honestly don’t know. Amanda taught us that they were spirits that wanted to live on so badly that their souls corrupted and now they want to take over the lives of those they can, and harm those around them.” 

Rhys shivered, took one last drag off of the joint, stamped it out on the window sill, and pulled the window down to a close. He went to the closet, pulled out a sweater, and put it on over his button up, rubbing his arms like he couldn’t get rid of the chill. 

“So, whatever it is can possess him?”

Rhys sat on the dresser across from Hank. He picked up a quartz crystal, and turned it over in his fingers. “Potentially.”

“It hasn’t ever happened?”

The crystal rolled over his fingers in a move that had to be practiced. “Depends.” 

Hank tried to keep his temper in check, but couldn’t help but glare. “Can you give a straight answer?”

“I don’t have one,” Rhys snapped. “I don’t know. It maybe happened, that night when he- when he went to the hospital, but from what he’s told me about it though, it was more manipulated into self-harm than actually having the choice taken from him.” 

“How much time do you think he has?”

Rhys’s eyes widened. “What did he tell you?”

“Just that being what he is—he would eventually be overpowered, and that he was already over the median age.” 

Rhys’s dark eyes averted back to the crystal, his magic swirling around his fingers as the crystal flipped over the backs of his fingers. “Connor is working on it. Spends most nights reading old grimories. Spends time not at his day job actively being a necromancer, holding seances and shit for extra cash to buy more grimoires, and recently big old books of family trees.”

“Family trees?”

“No leaf left unturned,” Rhys replied. “Some families in particular were scholars, some were big potion makers- a lot of those grimoires are either missing or were destroyed, but we do have a tendency to horde family grimoires, so maybe?” 

Hank looked down at Noah, a little curl of hair over his forehead. 

“We will need to keep a closer eye on him, keep him tempered more often. We need a stronger coven. Fast.” 

“You need more members?”

“Yeah,” Rhys replied. “There have been talks about inviting Leo. He’s Markus’s brother, powerful, but altogether problematic. He probably wouldn’t listen to Connor, but his coven has been falling apart at the seams since Carl’s death. He is a pain in the ass, but he’s powerful enough that it might be worth the risk. Everyone has feelers out in the community, looking for anyone who is unhappy with their coven and might be wanting a change, but we’re not sure we’re going to find someone, or others in time. 

“And we just don’t really have much space to house anyone else. It used to be that every witch had a room in their coven house, but Chloe and North share one now. I mostly share with Noah anyway, so I could move my stuff out of my room, but that’s still just one room,” Rhys rambled. “Witches also tend to be wary of joining a coven with one that is overpowered. There is always a risk involved.” 

“Do you think he would hurt you, or someone else?”

“Noah, no. Something possessing him? Something in the aether altering his world view into seeing something else?” Rhys nodded. “Noah could cause a lot of damage without realizing it, without meaning to. He could hurt you, Hank, you need to know that, he wouldn’t mean to, it wouldn’t be malicious, but it is possible.” 

Hank had figured that out a while ago, but only now did he really understand the depths of it. 

“If you want to go, he’ll understand,” Rhys said, eyes calculating as they watched. 

But Hank wouldn’t be leaving, not now. Something had cemented between them in a way he couldn’t understand, in the soft vulnerability and fear, in the kindness, and strength. “I’m fine right here.” 

At that, Rhys smiled. “Good. He will be out for a good six to eight hours though. You want lunch? I’m not much of a cook, but I haven’t fucked up sandwiches in a while.”

Hank didn’t like the thought of being away from Noah, but knew that Rhys wouldn’t leave his perch if he wasn’t certain that Noah wouldn’t wake. 

He followed Rhys into the kitchen where North sat stock still, her eyes darting to them as they entered the room. 

“How is he?” she asked.

“Tempered,” Rhys replied

“And Connor?”

“Sleeping? I guess? He’s with Gavin, I don’t really want to know.” 

North’s brows furrowed. “I saw something, in the shadows.”

Rhys paused a second with his hand on the fridge door. “You alright?”

“Yes.”

Rhys swung open the door, and started rifling through the contents. 

North toyed with a ring on her index finger. “Last time I saw something-”

“Don’t,” Rhys’s voice was sharp, slicing the room. 

“Rhys-”

“I said, don’t,” Rhys replied. He pulled back and looked at Hank. “We’ve got roast beef, Hungarian salami, and turkey.” 

“I’m fine with whatever,” Hank replied, feeling the tension in the room. 

North tapped her fingers on the counter, little flares of magic with each tap. “He tried to kill himself last time-”

“And you left last time,” Rhys replied, slamming the fridge door shut, and tossing three packs of meat on the counter. “You don’t get to pretend to give a shit now.” 

His magic was akin to his brothers, but now that Hank had spent more time around them, he could tell the difference. Rhys’s magic wasn’t as dense, it didn’t add a physical pressure to the room, it was smoky and dark, but it didn’t affect the space like Connor or Noah’s would. 

North’s magic lit in turn as she stood, her hands planted on the counter, flames appearing to lick along it’s surface and he took a step back as the room grew warmer. “Are we finally doing this?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Rhys replied, turning his back to her, opening the fridge once again, grabbing cheese, lettuce, and mayo. He set them on the counter, and shut the fridge door again. 

“You know what Amanda is like-”

“We are not having this fucking discussion right now,” Rhys hissed. 

“We are never having this fucking discussion, are we?” North snapped back, leaning toward him, but he didn’t step away from the heat, if anything he leaned into it. “You’re a coward.”

“Takes one to know one,” he replied. “Now get the fuck out of my face.” 

The front door opened and Josh walked in, took one look around the room and cursed, setting down his computer bag. “Okay, let’s just cool it down a bit.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” North turned her fury on him. 

Josh shed his suit jacket. “It’s actually hot in here, so go cool off for a few-”

“I-”

“Rhys,” Josh cut her off. “Outside.”

“Fuck off,” Rhys replied. 

“We have company,” Josh said pointing at Hank. “So both of you knock it off.”

“I’m making him a sandwich, I’m being a good host,” Rhys said, pulling bread out of the cupboard. 

North’s magic flared. “Noah is a fucking danger to this coven, and himself, and-”

“Enough!” Gavin stood by the stairs, furious and red-faced. “Both of you, knock it the fuck off.”

“Rhys-”

“I don’t fucking care,” Gavin snapped at North. “Whatever is going on between you two, whatever bad blood is there, I don’t give a shit. Connor is sleeping, or trying to. You two are not helping the situation-”

“North is-”

Gavin’s glare turned on Rhys. “Knock it off. Whatever your problem is with one another, shelf it, or take it outside. You’re coven. Act like it.”

“Says the plain-blood,” North muttered. 

“What did you just say,” Rhys’s words came with another wave of his magic. 

Gavin grabbed Rhys’s arm, physically holding him back, and putting himself between the fighting witches- a far cry from the man who’d been afraid of them not so long ago. “Connor has a migraine and I can’t get his nose to stop bleeding, so get your shit together for him.”

Rhys’s power dissipated, and he turned away from North, silently going about making the sandwiches. North went to speak and was silenced from the mere gesture of Gavin raising his right hand. She glared but left the room, stomping down the stairs, a door slamming moments later. 

Josh sat down heavily on one of the stools. “Do you need help with Connor?” 

“No, I’ve got it,” Gavin replied. “Just keep it down, okay?”

“Wait,” Rhys said, abandoning the half made sandwiches, and opening a cupboard, he rifled around various jars, tinctures, and bottles, until he found what he was looking for. “Lavender oil.”

“What do I do with it?” Gavin said, taking it. 

“Connor knows what to do,” Rhys replied. “He also knows where the meds are hidden, tell him to actually take some, and if you can’t get the bleeding to stop in another few, let me know.”

Gavin nodded, taking the lavender oil and went back upstairs. The house went mostly silent, with the exception of Rhys making the sandwiches. He passed one to Hank, another to Josh, who grabbed Rhys’s arm when he set the plate down. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

Rhys didn’t answer, his silence stretching. “We’re out of mayo. You’re on groceries this week, aren’t you?” 

Josh sighed and let go. “Yes.” 

“Add it to the list,” Rhys said, grabbing another plated sandwich. “I’ll be right back,” he said, taking it up the stairs. 

Hank was uncomfortable in the space, but sat down with his lunch. He wanted to still be here when Noah woke up, even if it was hours away. Worry ate away at him. He glanced over at Josh who poked at the sandwich. “So what’s the story with Rhys and North?”

Josh sighed, and shrugged. “They used to date, apparently the break-up was messy. They don’t really talk about it.” 

The front door opened. Simon walked in, stared at them a moment before throwing his hands out wide to his sides. “Is Connor okay? No one is answering the group text.” 

Josh pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned. “I forgot to turn the volume back on after class.” 

“And Connor? Noah? I felt the pull,” Simon said practically falling into a stool near Josh. 

“They’re resting,” Josh replied. “Sorry you left work for the update.”

Simon stole a quarter of Josh’s sandwich. “It was a slow day, and I promised Rose that I’ll cover the Sunday shift.” 

Rhys returned, picked up his plate before noticing Simon. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Simon reiterated the same story. Rhys pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned. “Sorry, I had my hands full.” 

“I’ll let the others know, Chloe was ready to come home too,” Simon said as he started typing on his phone. “But she has a client who drove two hours for their appointment, so I told her I would heck things out.” 

Rhys shoved the plate at Simon who looked across the counter, and the fact there were no more sandwiches. “What about you?”

“I’ll make another one, relax.” 

“Thanks.” 

Hank took in what information he could as they talked. Josh both worked at the university, and took classes there. Simon, a florist, frequently delivered arrangements to the same funeral home that Rhys worked at, and they spoke briefly of a large funeral that would have them both busy on Friday morning.

After lunch, he followed Rhys back to Noah’s room. 

“You know, you don’t have to stay,” Rhys said. “I can have him call you when he wakes up. Or, there are a ton of movies in the living room-”

“I want to stay.” 

Rhys smiled, as if that were the answer he’d been hoping for. “Well, I’m going to check in on Connor, and I’ve got a few errands to run. Noah should be out for another few hours anyway. His magic should be pretty far suppressed so Sleeping Beauty here might be kind of sleepy even when he wakes up from this frankly unfairly long nap. Simon and Josh downstairs if you need anything. Help yourself to a book, he keeps them under the bed.” 

Hank nodded, and was left alone in the room with Noah. He did check under the bed, there were two long but short plastic tote boxes he slid one out and popped the lid off. There was an assortment of novels; a few mysteries, a sci-fi series, some non-fiction, and surprisingly quite a few children’s books. He wondered if they were from his childhood, things he kept, maybe gifts. He picked out a sci-fi book that was worn around the edges, and the spine had seen better days figuring it had to be one Noah kept returning to- or he bought it second hand and had never read it, but it still looked like a decent way to spend the next couple hours. 

It felt too weird to sit on the bed with Noah sleeping there, and besides, his back would give him hell for it later, so he took a seat at the desk. The high back chair was profoundly comfortable and leaned back just right. He set the book aside when he saw the papers on the desk, his curiosity sparking once more. 

Two small piles of paper. The first stack had pencil sketches. A child with short hair, missing a front tooth, and a beanie with a panda on it, and along the side of the page drawn head shots of that child with different expressions. The paper underneath was drawn in the same style, a similar layout for multiple expressions, this time of a fuzzy looking creature with several eyes. 

The other stack had pictures sketched in a more realistic style, a cluster of flowers. The next paper had sketches of various coven members that Hank was growing more familiar with. The one under that had scribbles, like Noah had been testing out pen and marker colours, but there were sketches there, white space in the shapes of eyes in the darkness, haunting even in paper form. 

He reset the piles to how they were, and started reading. The book was pretty good, and hours slipped away as he flipped the pages.

The movement in his peripheral vision startled him, but it was only Noah sitting up. “Hey,” Hank said, watching as Noah rubbed his right fist into his eye. He blinked blearily at Hank in confusion before starting to hyperventilate. Hank tossed the book on the desk and crossed the room. “You’re okay, hey, you’re okay.” He grabbed Noah by the shoulder, and Noah threw himself into Hank’s chest. Hank wasn’t sure what was going on, what triggered such panic, but he did what he could to quell it. “Okay, you’re okay, you’re fine, everything is okay-”

“You’re alive- fuck I thought, for a second I thought-”

He wrapped his arms around Noah’s shaking form, and held him tight. “No, no, I’m here,” he promised, considering Noah’s struggles, it wasn’t hard to see where the lines might have gotten blurred. 

Noah sniffled a little and pulled back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve been through a lot, I didn’t help that, so… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” 

Noah pulled the arms of the sweater over his hands and scrubbed his face free of tears. “I’m going to shower. I feel gross.” He flicked his fingers and the barest trace of magic touched his fingertips before disappearing. He kept a hand on the bed as he stood a little unsteady. 

“You good?” Hank asked. 

“Yeah, this is normal,” Noah said. “I won’t be long. I assume my brothers know you’re here?”

“Yeah. Connor’s might still be sleeping, and Rhys went out to run some errands a few hours ago, should be back soon.” 

“Okay.” He collected some clothing from his drawers and grabbed the towel hanging on the back of his door before he left the room. 

Hank returned to the book while he waited, and as Noah had said, he wasn’t gone long. The sweater Noah had chosen looked warm, and at least a size too big, the sweatpants were a distractingly good fit though. 

Noah tossed the towel and his other clothes onto the overflowing hamper. “Are you enjoying the book?”

“It’s pretty good,” Hank replied. 

Noah went and laid on his stomach on the bed facing Hank, his chin resting on his folded arms, looking tired enough that had he of fallen back to sleep right there, Hank wouldn’t have been surprised. “What part are you at?” 

Hank went over the last scene, the shocking betrayal of one of the main characters, the tragic death scene of the man they were trying to help. 

Noah smiled. “Oh.”

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“Just… keep reading,” he said with the grin of someone who knows what’s coming and is eager to watch another person experience it.

“I will, you mind if I borrow it?”

“Not at all,” Noah replied. 

Hank set the book on the desk and gestured to the papers. “I take it these are your drawings?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s really good.”

“I certainly hope so, it’s my job.”

Considering his power, and the fact that he was basically housebound, Hank hadn’t given much thought to Noah having a career. “You’re an artist.”

“An illustrator. I used to do some pencil and ink work for comics, but I mostly do children's books now, and I take commissions when I have a light work load.” 

“The style is like these books I used to read to Cole,” Hank said. “Adventures of Ida and Fox-”

“Really?” Noah half dived off the bed, just his upper body, planting a hand on the hardwood while he reached under the bed, and pulled out the tote far enough to get a look inside. He grabbed a book, shimming back until his chest was back on the bed. He held up _‘Adventures of Ida and Fox: The Magic Forest.’_

Hank walked over and took it, sure enough under the authors name was _illustrated by Noah Arkay_ , he’d never paid that much attention before. He flipped through, the pictures of the girl in her colourful clothes, and the cute little fox at her side. It had to be one of the newer ones, because Hank didn’t recognize any of the pictures and he hadn’t had a reason to keep buying the books after Cole had passed. 

“Yeah, sure,” Noah said. 

Hank looked up from the book. “Huh?”

“Oh, Cole’s just asked me to read it to him,” Noah replied. He turned to his right. “Which one did you leave off at?” Noah was quiet a minute, then nodded. “I’ve got another tote under the bed, they have the others.”

To have Noah speaking to Cole was so strange. Words lodged in Hank’s throat. His little boy talking about books they used to read together, that love of reading still in him.  

The door opened and Rhys walked in. “Oh, you’re awake. Good. Dinner time. Are you hungry?”

“Who cooked?” Noah asked, his nose scrunched. 

“No one, I brought home Chinese food-”

“Thank the Goddess, I’m starving,” Noah said practically jumping out of bed. He took the book from Hank’s hand and tossed it on the bed. His hands rested on Hank’s shoulders, guiding him toward the door. “Come on, before the others get all the egg rolls.” 

Hank followed the brothers out of the room, looking back like he might see Cole, but the room was empty. Noah had paused when Connor’s door opened. 

Connor was still in his white button up, rumpled from sleep, but he was in a pair of shorts that Hank was sure he’d seen Gavin in before. The man smelled of lavender, and his hair was stuck up at odd angles. 

Connor still looked exhausted but smiled softly. “How’s your head?”

Noah touched the back of his head. “Hurts a bit, noticed it in the shower. Did I fall?”

With that question, Hank wondered how much of the episode Noah remembered. 

“Hit your head on the wall,” Connor said. 

“There isn’t any blood, he’s fine,” Rhys grinned. “Always did have a hard head.”

Gavin shadowed Connor and the group of them went downstairs. The long table was full of food. A pretty blonde came through with plates, and smiled at Hank. “You again, I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Chloe.” 

“Hank.”

Chloe giggled. “Oh, I know.”

Hank glanced at Noah who was now sporting a pretty blush and looking anywhere but back at Hank. 

The table was full, every member of the coven home. Gavin didn’t look at all out of place, comfortable in his space between Connor and Chloe. Hank got a spot between Noah and Simon while North sat on the opposite end of the table as Rhys. There were a lot of requests to pass certain dishes at first while everyone piled their plates with food. The conversation drifted, there were stories and laughter. 

The food was pretty good, and he was only half paying attention to Chloe, who was was chatting away about her work. Gavin made mention of Hank having a tattoo, she turned her sights on him. “Really?” 

“Yeah, where?” Noah asked pausing in his meal for the first time.

“One on my chest, the other on my thigh.” 

Noah’s eyes shift to Hank’s chest, then to his thighs like he had x-ray vision, and then directly back to his plate, a little red in the face. 

“Oooh, I want to see!” Chloe said. “Who did them? Are they recent?”

“Chlo! Let the man eat,” Rhys said. 

“Listen, you,” Chloe waved a spring roll at Rhys who quickly leaned forward and took a bite out of it. “No!” She glared at him and took a bite herself. 

By the end of dinner, the table was a mess of plates, utensils, take-out containers, and a littering of fortune papers from the cookies. Hank expected it to be quite the clean up, but without a word Chloe put lids on the leftovers, Rhys started picking up the garbage, Markus and Simon started clearing the table and in no time the table was clean. 

Hank wasn’t sure how long he should stay, but considering he did have to be to work tomorrow, he turned to Noah. “I should head out.” 

Noah nodded. “Okay.” 

Noah walked him to the door, and followed him outside, away from the prying ears of the coven. “Thanks for everything, Hank. I-I wasn’t expecting you to be there when I woke up, but I’m very glad you were.” 

“Do you remember what I asked you in the car?”

“The car?” Noah frowned, a little wrinkle between his brows. Then his eyes widened. “Depends, what did you ask?” 

Hank had the suspicion that Noah remembered, but didn’t quite believe. Hank was so nervous his fingertips seemed to tingle as his heart hammered away in his chest. “Do you want to go out on a date?”

“Knowing all that you do now, you still want to?” Noah asked, his voice the softest whisper. 

“Yes.” 

Noah smiled, a little sad. “Yes. I’d love to.” 

Hank grinned. “I’ll call so we can figure out a day that works.”

Noah hugged himself as a cool breeze came through. “Sounds good. I look forward to it.” 

“Get inside before you catch a cold,” Hank said, taking a step back. 

“Have a good night, Hank.”

“You too.” 

He walked back to his car alone, and it was almost uncomfortably quiet after the noise that had accompanied dinner. The absence of Noah left a strange hole in his chest, but he started his car, exhaustion coming for him. The other cars were parked on the grass, like they knew this car didn’t belong and they didn’t want to box him in. 

The drive home felt too long, and Sumo was whining at the door when he returned. “Sorry boy, come on,” he opened the back door and Sumo was barely off the deck before he was pissing on the shrub. There was evidence of Noah still in the kitchen, the garbage bag over the window, the glass shards in the garbage bag, the dirty dishes on the counter along with Hank’s half eaten breakfast. 

The photo album was still on the counter, and Hank brushed his hand over the picture on the front, one of the last pictures of Cole taken, smiling with an ice cream cone. He wasn’t sure if Cole was with him, if he could hear and yet he had to speak. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that Cole.” More than that, it shouldn’t have happened. He closed his eyes. “I’ll do better, kid. I’ll try to do better.” 

And although Noah was built of darkness, for the first time since Cole died, Hank thought he might actually have a glimpse of light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DaydreamsGolden) and as per usual, I'm hanging out over at on [ Detroit: New ERA ](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) there’s lots of fics, and fanart, and fun, so come join us <3


	10. Chapter 10

A shadow fell over the open bedroom door. Noah didn’t bother looking up from what he was doing, watercolours were a fussy medium, and no visitor—dead or alive—would make him mess it up. A bit of the orange bled out side of the inked lines, but it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t touch up the ink later. 

Only when his brush was in the water did he turn to look at his visitor. Connor stood in the doorway, his aura frazzled like he was stressed but weak, like he didn’t even have the energy to maintain it. The dark circles under his eyes were worrisome. Noah knew Connor was keeping an impossible schedule between work, coven duties, and trying to find a way to keep Noah alive. He’d already tried talking to Connor about it, but his big brother just insisted everything was fine. _Typical_. 

Before Noah could even greet Connor, Rhys breezed past his twin, walked over to the bed, and spun to land on his back. “The fuck did you want.” 

Noah swivelled his chair to look over at Rhys. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

“Not you.” Rhys propped himself up on his elbows. “Con?”

“I received a letter,” Connor said as he walked into the room and closed the door. “Well, technically, _we_ received a letter.” 

Noah followed Connor to the bed, and the three of them sat in a circle. It was like being teenagers again, although Noah was glad they had bigger beds. 

The envelope had already been opened, even though Noah could see that all three of their names were on it. 

“Nosy fucker,” Rhys said, flicking the envelope. 

“It was a mistake, it had my name, it was in a pile of my other mail,” Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It took me until I was in the second paragraph to realize who it’s from.” 

“And who is it from?” Noah asked, that part of the envelope hidden under Connor’s thumb. 

“Our mother.”

“Amanda?” He wasn’t sure why she would be sending them mail. An invitation to some kind of event? She couldn’t really think that they would be attending her Samhain party at the end of the month. 

“No.” Connor took a deep breath. “Our real mother.” 

“What the fuck,” Rhys whispered. 

Connor set the envelope down in the center of the circle they made. “I read it.” 

“Who the fuck does she think she is-”

“Rhys-”

“She abandoned us!” 

“You know that’s not the way it works.” 

“She left us,” Rhys ground out. “With Amanda.” 

“She’s a plain-blood, we-”  
“Any other coven!” Rhys snapped, moving off the bed. “Literally any other coven-”  
“Amanda is a-”  
“-she left us at would have been better!”   
“-powerful necromancer-”  
“Instead she left us with-”  
“-and more importantly, a powerful coven-”  
“-that abusive bitch!” 

Noah stared down at the envelope as the twins continued to try and speak over one another. He couldn’t remember their mother. He thought that she had brown hair. Maybe dark-blonde. His memories so old and faded, he wasn’t even sure if the fragments were real or imagined. 

Curiosity ate at him, but he drew out of his stupor as the door to his room slammed shut. He looked up to realize only Connor remained, staring at the door, looking older than he had any right to. 

“I remember her, a little, and the situation was out of her control,” Connor said softly. “I-I think I’m going to call. Feel out the situation. Whether you decide to get in touch is up to you.” 

Noah reached out and held the envelope in his hands. Something that tied him to his real mother, the woman who gave birth to them, who—he assumed—had loved them dearly. The least he could do was read it, make an informed decision. 

He removed the paper from the envelope, involuntary magic swirling around his hands as his nerves got the best of him. He unfolded the letter and read;

  
_Dear Connor, Rhys, and Noah,_

_I admit, I’m not sure this letter will reach you, but upon hearing of an ‘Arkay’ Coven, I had to take the risk. It’s unlikely another bloodline with that surname is in the area. It must be yours. I hope it is._

_I’m not sure how much you remember, or even if you remember me at all. You three were so young. My name is Kat, and I am your mom. I need you three to understand, I love you so much. There isn’t a day that goes by that my heart doesn’t ache for you. I hope you’re happy, and safe, and together._

_Please know it was never my intention to lose you, you were taken by laws I didn’t know. Your father was very much removed from coven life- and even other witches in general. When he died, I had no one to turn to, no one to help. I didn’t know how to raise you boys, how to teach you in the way you needed._

_Mic, your father, he had left me with information for the Stern Coven. I thought I would take you for tutoring. It never occurred to me that they could take you from me. That my status as a ‘plain-blood’ would make me an unfit parent in the eyes of the council. I suppose you know these laws now, you’re men now, not the little boys I still picture you as._

_With all the time that has passed, I don’t know if you’ll even read this entire letter, much less wish to speak with me. I’ve included my number and my address. My phone is always with me, and my doors are forever open to you. I hope you’ll get in touch._

_With love always,_  
_Kat_

  
His emotions were conflicted. The woman was his mother, yet a stranger. Her yearning was clear in the letter, and their laws were clear, yet he remembered the fog of Amanda’s magic, the cold, and the temperings that had left him shivering. He remembered Connor shaking with anxiety before lessons, and throwing up after them. He remembered Rhys bundled in sweaters in the middle of summer, dark circles under his eyes. 

He folded up the letter, put it back in the envelope, and handed it to Connor. 

“Well?” Connor asked. 

Noah shrugged. “I don’t know yet.” 

Connor nodded. “Nothing has to be decided now. It’s been over twenty five years, a few more days, weeks, months- doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“Do you think… do you think she like re-married and we have other siblings?” 

Connor’s eyebrows shot up. “I hadn’t, but it’s possible.” 

Noah’s phone went off, and he returned to his desk to check the message. 

HANK: Date on Wednesday?   
NOAH: Sounds good, what time?  
HANK: 7?  
NOAH: Pick me up?  
HANK: of course.  
NOAH: Where are we going?  
HANK: Surprise.  
NOAH: Dress?  
HANK: Casual.  
NOAH: I look forward to it.   
HANK: Me too. 

“Hank?” Connor asked from his spot on the bed. 

“Yeah, he wants to take me out Wednesday.” He tucked his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. “You’ll have to temper me Tuesday.” 

Connor frowned. 

“What?” Noah asked. “Is it Hank, or me dating that you have a problem with?”

“I only want what is best for you—” 

“Hank’s a good man.” 

“I’m not saying that he isn’t,” Connor adjusted the knot of his tie. “However, the events at the precinct—I can’t ignore the kind of danger that put you in, the danger it put this coven in. We’re lucky that Captain Fowler didn’t want to make it any more an issue than I did.” 

“I have to take equal blame for that,” Noah said. “I knew the rules, I still did it anyway, it was my decision.” 

“He is a police lieutenant!” Connor stood. “He knows damn well that witches _at bare minimum_ need to be signed in with the Captain! And yes, you should have known better! We’ve been through this. I don’t trust Hank, and I don’t trust you when you’re with him.” 

Noah felt his stomach drop. “Fuck, Con, tell me how you really feel.” 

“If Fowler had called in the council, we wouldn’t be having this conversation because you would be in one of their facilities, and this coven would have been disbanded, all members reassigned,” Connor snapped. “I don’t have the political position to protect anyone yet—least of all a Nines people already don’t think I can control. You want to help, your intentions are pure, but the end result is all that matters. If you’re going out with Hank, no magic. I fucking mean it.” 

“Fine.”

Connor sighed. “Noah.”

“Just get out,” Noah said, acting far more dismissive than he felt. 

Connor left, envelope in hand. 

Noah sat back down at his desk. His eyes settled on his work, only it was as if someone had flicked red paint over the girl’s face. Blood, it looked like blood. “What the fuck,” he whispered to himself, trying to dab it with a tissue, but it had already dried into the paper. 

He cursed and peeled the tape from the edges, rolling up the paper and throwing it into the bin with the others. He’d have to start over. 

Again. 

___

Knowing it was Noah’s first date, Hank wanted to make it as perfect as possible. Maybe flowers were overrated, or old school, but he still found himself walking into a gorgeous flower shop that had been a staple in the city for years, yet he’d never bothered going in before. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out why the place was noted on the internet review sites for being ‘stunning,’ ‘an incredible, must see,’ and ‘otherworldly.’

There were potted trees that crawled along the ceiling, having run out of space to grow up. Plants hung from the ceiling, spilling over the their pots, and falling like curtains. Some of the flowers didn’t even look real, too beautiful, too colourful. He reached out and touched some of the soft petals, unable to resist. 

There were flowers he knew, bunches of tulips and daffodils that he figured were out of season. Roses were arranged in a vase on a small cafe table, tea cups and saucers were placed near the chairs, but they were full of soil, bunches of clover growing out of them. 

The scent couldn’t be narrowed down to one flower or plant, but the entire place smelled incredible. 

“Hello again, Hank.” 

Hank turned to see Simon, a mason jar exploding with a riot of colourful flowers in hand, walking away from the swinging door to the backroom. Hank was surprised for all of a second, but knew he shouldn’t be. There was likely no greater work place than this for a geomancer. “You work here.”

“I do,” Simon said as he walked behind the counter, and set the vase down. “What brings you in today? Are you looking for anything in particular?”

While he figured Simon likely knew about the date being that he lived with Noah, it still felt odd for Hank to say out loud. A few months ago, Hank wouldn’t have believed he was going on a date with a much younger man, and especially not a witch. Now, here he was, wanting to make the date something memorable. “Would you happen to know Noah’s favourite flower? I mean, is it weird to get a flowers, your house is full of them? Besides, do men even like getting flowers?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Simon said, laying out sheets of clear cellophane. He grabbed a small box, and set it in the middle of the sheets, and carefully set the mason jar inside before stuffing the box around the vase with newspaper. “And I know he draws peonies, and roses a lot. I think they’re likely his favourite.” 

Hank watched as Simon cut a few lengths of twine, before pulling the cellophane up around the flowers, and tying it all up in a pretty bow.

“Simon, would you be able to lock up tonight? I know it’s last minute but-” The woman who’d stepped out of the backroom looked up from her purse. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were with a customer, I’m so sorry!”

Simon cocked his head to the side. “Is everything okay?”

“Adam’s car broke down, I need to go pick him up,” she replied. “Would you be able to stay the extra hour to lock up?”

“Of course,” Simon replied.

“You’re such a dear,” she said, pulling the keys out, and handing them over. She looked up at Hank. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“Not a problem,” Hank replied. 

The bell above the door jingled as she rushed out. 

“So what are you interested in getting?” Simon asked. “A hand-tied bouquet is the traditional option for a date, it’s what I’d recommend.” 

“Sure, let’s do that then.” 

Simon drummed his fingers on the counter. “I wouldn’t necessarily choose a bouquet of peony and roses though, they tend to look ‘bridal.’” 

“Just throw together whatever you think Noah will like.” 

Simon smiled, soft yellow smoke around his hands. “Dangerous words, Hank. I tend to get carried away.”

Hank huffed out a breath. “Try not to break my bank account.” 

The witch laughed, and motioned for Hank to follow him as they moved through more displays until they were the narrow space before the door to the backroom, on either side were glass refrigeration units full of flowers. “What catches you eye?”

There were large, striking lilies. Tall flowers that he didn’t know the names of. Fat blooms, and dainty petals, entire buckets of branches with deep green leaves. Hank didn’t even know where to look. “Uh, those purple and yellow ones are nice, I guess.” 

“The confidence in your answer is overwhelming,” Simon deadpanned. “But I’ll keep the iris in mind, any others?” 

“I don’t know anything about flowers-”

“What do you find aesthetically pleasing? Don’t over think it.” 

“Those ones,” Hank said pointing to a stalk of blue flowers. 

“Delphinium, a nice choice,” Simon said. “Any others?” 

Hank turned around to see the selection in the other fridges. “I didn’t even know orchids came that small.” 

Simon smiled, and opened the fridge, he grabbed a few of the orchids, then grabbed some of the delphinium, a couple large peony blooms, and iris. He walked to the door with his hands full, turning to push the door with his back. “You’re welcome to come on back,” he invited and Hank followed along. 

There were two work stations, and a couple of stools. On two of the walls, above the tables were two shelves both full of different vases. A large sink was full of water, blocks of floral foam floating inside.

“Take a seat,” Simon offered. He set down the flowers at his work station, and grabbed a knife, flipping the blade out with practiced ease. 

Hank sat down. “So, how long have you worked here?” 

Simon held the flower in one hand, and dragged the knife down on an angle, a quick slice, and the end of the flower fell. He set it that one to the side and grabbed the next. “Three years,” Simon replied. “How long have you been a police officer.”

“Ah, fuck, since my mid-twenties,” Hank replied, watching as Simon sliced the end off the next flower. “Don’t do the math on that.” Simon smiled a little, but kept his eyes on the flowers. The silence was too much, and Hank felt the need to fill it. He looked around, eyes on the floating foam. “Why don’t you just dunk those under?”

“They sink when they’re full.” Simon sliced another end off. “If you dunk them, they might look wet on the outside, but the center will be dry, and your arrangement won’t last.” 

“Oh.” 

Simon continued his work. “Where are you taking Noah tonight?”

“There is a small jazz club, food is pretty good, live band, but venue is small enough that hopefully it won’t be overwhelming,” Hank said, starting to second guess himself. 

“Well, I hope you two have a good time.” 

“Thanks.” 

With all the ends trimmed, Hank expected Simon to grab them in a fist and tie them up. Instead he started doing some kind of complicated crossing of the stems, and yet still managing to hold it all in one hand.  Greenery was added, bits of leaves, and long decorative grass that Simon made arches of around the exterior or the bouquet. After he tied it up in twine, he set it on the table and it remained perfectly upright. 

Hank stared at it. “Magic?”

Simon laughed. “No, basic floral design.” His hands did seem to glow a bit as he grabbed it, and the yellow flowed over the stems, seeped into the leaves, and petals. “However, that should help keep them for a few extra days.” 

“You charge extra for that?” 

“Not today,” Simon said. “Come on, I’ll get you ringed up.” 

___

Armed with the bouquet of flowers, Hank stared down the Arkay coven house. Jitters be damned, he walked up to the door and knocked. One of the twins answered the door, he’d put money on it being Connor. Hank suspected Rhys liked him, at least a little, but Connor wore a disapproving stare, and stood fully blocking the doorway. 

“Lieutenant Anderson.” Connor glanced at the flowers, sighed, and stepped back. 

“Oh, those are lovely,” Chloe said as she blindly jabbed a gold stud into her ear. She held her tongue between her teeth as she put the back into place. “Hey Noah!” She shouted. “Your daaaaaate is here!” 

Hank stood awkwardly in place, and was thankful that Noah didn’t take long before coming down the stairs. He had some kind of product in his hair, taming the fact that it clearly hadn’t been cut in a while. He managed to make the grey jeans, with a hole in the right knee look trendy—maybe they were, Hank didn’t keep up with such things. The v-neck t-shirt in black was classic and safe. He looked good. Real good. 

The flowers felt silly, but he caught Noah’s surprise and then delight and Hank’s knew he’d made the right call. He silently held the bouquet out, realizing in that moment how out of practice he was with dating, feeling all the more self-conscious with both Chloe and Connor in the room. 

Noah took the flowers, looked them over with a wide smile. “These are beautiful, thank you.” 

Hank shoved his hands in to the pockets of his jacket. “You’re welcome.” 

“I’ll just get a vase,” Noah said. It didn’t take him long, a quick trip to the back room, and returning with one wide and tall enough for the bouquet. He set the flowers in their vase, fussing with them a little. Connor stood next to his brother, whispering something Hank couldn’t hear, Noah nodded. 

 Chloe checked her reflection in a little mirror from her purse before she bid them all a good night, and was out the door. 

Noah rejoined Hank. “Ready to go?” 

Hank nodded, and waited as Noah put his shoes on, and grabbed a motorcycle jacket off one of the many hooks. The night was already pretty cold as they stepped outside. Noah put the coat on, staring at something off to his right. 

“Everything okay?” 

Noah blinked, and returned his attention to Hank. “Yeah, fine.”

Hank kept the radio low during the drive. Noah had his eyes shut the entire ride even as he told a few anecdotes about his childhood, a soft smile on his face. 

Finding a parking space nearly took as much time as the drive did. The short walk to the venue was spent telling Noah a few of the more lighthearted stories from his job, most of them from many years past. Noah laughed, bumped into Hank a little as they walked, and Hank took the chance to grab Noah’s hand. The man didn’t pull away, in fact the opposite happened, Noah’s long fingers linked with his, the soft warmth of his magic flaring around their fingers, gently working their way up to their wrists. 

It was enough to give Noah pause, and Hank was forced to stop with him. “It’s okay,” Hank said. Noah took a few deep breaths, staring at their hands. “It’s okay,” Hank repeated. “You’ve got it under control.” 

Noah’s soft grey eyes met his. “You don’t know that.” 

“I do.” And Hank felt it, the utter confidence in Noah. He could easily imagine the strength of the man, of Noah pulling that power back under. “I’ve never had much faith in magic—in witches, but you—you I believe in.” He felt it retreating, the softness surrounding them gone. 

“Just for the record, I was tempered yesterday, otherwise I might not have been able to get it back under control,” Noah said, but he looked pleased. 

Hank just tugged Noah’s hand a little and they fell back into step with one another. The venue was small, and had been gaining popularity, but Hank had made reservations, allowing them to cut ahead of the few small groups hoping to get a table. 

The host outside glanced at them. 

“Reservations for Anderson,” Hank said. 

The host glanced down at a list, and nodded. “Right this way.” 

The lights were dim, small oil lamps on each table gave the room a warm glow. They followed the waiter to the table near the back, which Hank had requested so they wouldn’t end up in the middle of the room, unsure if Noah would feel comfortable like that. 

The host set the small menus down on either side of the table. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.” And he was off again. 

Hank hung his coat on the back of his chair, and watched Noah do the same before they both sat down. Noah’s looked around the room. 

“What do you think?” Hank asked. 

Noah’s eyes returned to him. “It’s nice. Do you come here often?” 

“I used to,” Hank replied. “I just never felt comfortable coming on my own, and it’s been a while since there was someone I felt like going with.” 

Noah smiled at that and picked up his menu. “Is there anything you recommend?” 

“I remember the salmon fillet being amazing.” 

“Hmm, oh! They have a potato and leek soup.” 

Hank’s nose scrunched. “You like leeks.” 

Noah gave him a judgmental glare in return. “You don’t?”

“My mother makes a dish with leeks and brussel sprouts, it’s awful.” 

Noah’s fingers drummed along the back of the menu. “Do you have a good relationship with your mother?” 

Hank wasn’t quite sure where the question came from but he shrugged. “It’s okay. She lives in Ann Arbor and I don’t visit as much as I should. She lives with my sister-”

“You have a sister?”

Hank nodded. “Leanne. She’s married, no kids. Librarian, also teaches those wine and paint nights people like going to. We aren’t close.”

Noah nodded along, but paused when they were approached. 

“Hello, my name is Suze, I’ll be serving you this evening. May I start you off with something to drink?” 

Hank caught the way that Noah kept his eyes on the menu, he also remembered that drinking affected magic. “Just water for me,” he nudged Noah’s foot under the table. “Noah?” 

“Water too, please.” 

“Coming right up,” Suze said, walking off, her blonde ponytail bouncing with her steps. 

“You okay?” hank asked. 

Noah nodded. “I- or we rather, my brothers and I, uh, we received a letter from our birth mother a few days ago.” 

“What’s the story there?” 

“A plain-blood can’t raise a witch,” Noah said. “We were put into Amanda’s care after our father died. I-I don’t even remember our mother. Connor has set up a meeting with her later in the week. Rhys, he won’t even read the letter.” 

“And you, what do you want?” 

Noah was silent and still for a moment before he sighed. “I don’t know. She is our mother, but she’s also a stranger.” He set the menu down, magic crept from his fingertips, and swirled around the lamp on their table. “I think she was in a situation beyond her control though, she couldn’t have kept us. Especially not me.” The smoke snuffed the flame, Noah glanced at the lantern, cursed and tucked his hands away under the table. 

Suze returned with their waters and an unfair amount of pep in her step. “Have you gentlemen decided?” 

Hank tapped Noah’s foot under the table. “Uh, I’ll get the potato and leek soup, and the salmon please.” 

“Excellent choices,” she grabbed his menu, before turning her attention to Hank. “And you?” 

“We’ll start with the stuffed mushrooms, and I’ll get the salmon too.” 

“Great,” she grabbed the menus. “Music is about to start, enjoy!” 

The lights further dimmed, leaving the place mostly lit by the lanterns on the tables. The songstress crooned into the microphone while the band played. 

Hank regretted coming here now, in a place where he couldn’t talk to Noah anymore, not without having to raise his voice just to be heard. Everyone else sat enraptured by the performance. Even Noah was staring at the stage, a little wide-eyed in wonder. Maybe it had been the right call? Hank couldn’t be sure. 

Their appetizers were delivered during the pause after the second song. Noah seemed to have his magic back under control, hands unfolding the napkin. 

“How’s the soup?” Hank asked after he’d taken the first sip. 

“Good. I mean, I make it better, but it’s decent.” 

Hank laughed. “Maybe I should have just had you over to cook at my place.” 

“Next time,” Noah said, glancing over at Hank- clearly waiting for a reaction. 

“Next time,” Hank agreed. 

The music started once again, and they ate their appetizers while listening to the music. Hank got Noah’s attention by flicking his bowl, and then pointed at his own plate. Noah caught on quick, and took one of the offered stuffed mushrooms. He took a bite, eyes widening and then trying to angle the mushroom toward the stage lights like he could get a better view, when that seemed to fail, he shoved the rest of it in his mouth. He gave Hank a thumbs up, then pointed to his soup. 

Hank’s brows drew down, and he shook his head. There was no way he was voluntarily eating leeks. 

The music continued as their appetizers were cleared. A couple of rings on Noah’s fingers caught Hank’s attention, he stared at them, trying to figure out what kind of stones they were. 

Their entrees were delivered, and were every bit as delicious as Hank remembered. Maybe such a loud first date wasn’t ideal, he still couldn’t maintain a decent conversation with Noah, but at least it seemed as though he was enjoying his meal, and if the way his foot kept tapping under the table was any indication, he was enjoying the music as well. 

Suze was quick to rid them of their plates when they were finished, and Hank took Noah’s hand. The witch’s magic swirling before retreating. Hank toyed with the ring on Noah’s index finger, a thick band with a soft orange stone, the silver band around his ring finger was slightly thinner, a black stone embedded. 

There were a few couples who’d gotten up to dance, and Hank leaned across the table, Noah leaning in close in return to hear. “Do you want to dance.”

Noah started shaking his head before the final word was even out. “I can’t dance.” 

Hank looked at the couples swaying, nothing complicated beyond not stepping on each others feet, but nodded, not wanting to push Noah. 

They watched the rest of the set. The songstress thanked them, and the lights became a little brighter as the band started to pack up. 

Suze returned to them with a dessert menu. “I’ll give you a moment with that,” she said before going on to some of her other tables. 

They settled on sharing a small variety plate of crepes that Hank ordered when Suze came back around. The general chatter in the room had gone up now that the band had stopped playing. 

Their conversation drifted easily, and only came to a halt as Hank discovered that Noah had never been to the zoo. “Never?”

“No.” 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. You know how they say that animals can sense spirits, I believe that. It’s not witches in general that make animals skittish, but necromancers specifically.” Noah shrugged. “Even if I did go, I probably wouldn’t see much of anything, and probably cause the animals a lot of stress.” 

“That’s too bad.” 

Noah shrugged again. “I’m used to it.” 

The crepes were delivered, causing a slight lull in conversation that went into the safer topic of taste. Hank had a preference for the plainer cinnamon and sugar one while Noah had decided his favourite was ultimately the one which was strawberry filled and drizzled in chocolate, but the salted caramel was a close second. 

Hank grabbed the bill before Noah could put down his fork, paid their tab as Noah dragged the last strawberry through caramel sauce. 

Suze bid them a goodnight, and they put their jackets back on. 

It had gotten colder out while they’d been inside, and the walk back to the car seemed so far after all the food. 

Streetlights and storefronts lit the way. There were still plenty of people out, a couple of joggers ran by and Hank could only wish for that kind of energy. 

A few buskers were out, one strumming on a guitar while the other sang. A passerby tossed a couple coins in the open guitar case. Noah stopped, and Hank paused near him, Noah’s eyes were tracking something that Hank couldn’t see. 

“What is it?” Hank asked. 

“The-the dancer,” Noah replied, he grabbed Hank’s hand and pulled. “Come on.” They walked quickly, and Noah glanced over his shoulder. 

“Everything okay?” Hank asked. 

“Yes, I don’t feel anything… latching on for lack of a better word.” 

There was still so much that Hank didn’t understand about magic, about necromancy, about Noah. He went along with it, pulled out his keys to unlock the car. 

They both got inside, and Hank turned up the heat. Noah kept his eyes shut, but was more chatty on the ride home, asking about Hank’s favourite foods and what dishes he would like to try the next time they got together. It was so comforting to have Noah so obviously interested in a second date- that he didn’t have to spend the drive wondering. 

There were more cars in the wide driveway when he pulled in at the Arkay house. 

He walked Noah to the door, and they both paused outside. Noah leaned in a little before pausing. “One second.” He slammed his hand against the house, and his magic spread quickly crawling over the windows, and Hank heard a sound of protest inside. “Everyone is nosy in this house.” 

Hank chuckled. “Private now?”

“Yes.” 

“Good.” He’d been waiting all night for this. He cupped the back of Noah’s neck, and didn’t even have a chance to gage Noah’s interest since the young man surged forward, lips against his a little too hard, but softening a half-second later as he figured out what pressure worked, sweet taste of strawberries still lingering on his tongue. 

Noah tentatively rested his hand on Hank’s shoulder, and he could feel that warm soft feeling of magic brushing along his neck, rising and pulling back like Noah was fighting to keep it under control, losing as Noah pulled his hand away, and then took a step back. 

Noah’s hands were behind his back, not that it mattered with the way his magic wrapped around his waist, clawed up his arms, and appeared to be reaching out in tendrils for Hank. “Sorry.” 

His heart raced but he put out a trembling hand, the tendrils of magic twisting around his fingers soft as they slithered along his wrist in little wisps. 

The witch’s eyes widened, clearly he hadn’t been expecting Hank to voluntarily interact with his magic. Certainly didn’t expect Hank to step into it, closing that space between them, magic soft brushing along his skin completely ignoring the reality of clothes. 

This time when their lips met, Noah didn’t hold back, didn’t pull himself away and hide away his hands. He was a little overeager in an endearing way, magic unfamiliar and yet comforting against Hank’s skin. For someone who’d been so hate-filled and afraid of magic, he could stand to feel more of it. 

Like Noah knew that, the magic seemed to spread, and when they finally parted, magic was crawling along the lawn—

The door opened and Connor was standing in the shadows. “What did I say about magic?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Noah said, looking into the house with a grimace, then the entirety of the front deck, half the lawn. “I shouldn’t even-”

“Just say your goodbyes and get in here before you give Con a fucking aneurysm,” Rhys said, draping himself over Connor’s shoulders with a shit-eating grin. He also shut the door, although, Hank could still hear the twins bickering on the other side. 

“I did have a good time tonight,” Noah said. “Thank you.” 

“I had a good time too. You still want to do it again sometime?” 

Noah nodded, wide-eyed and eager. “I would.” 

“Good, I’ll, uh, talk to you soon.” 

“Good night, Hank.” 

When Hank got to his car, he took one last look. Noah was still watching him wearing that soft smile in the glow of the porch light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DaydreamsGolden)


	11. Chapter 11

The tea Simon had given Noah tasted far too _green_. The likelihood of it growing cold and being dumped down the sink was high, but he still carried it up the stairs on the off chance he sipped at it while he worked. He had a deadline coming up, and still several pages of illustrations to do. They would have been done had errors not kept cropping up; smudges, off colours, drops of paint on a page that hadn’t been near the paint previously, and on a couple of occasions drops of what looked like blood. 

He had a plan to at least get half of them done and sent before anything could happen. 

The door to his room was already open, and inside knelt Rhys on the ground, surrounded by pieces of paper unrolled and held down by any object heavy enough from jars of pens, to a shoe, to a candle. 

“What are you doing?” Noah asked, taking his tea to his work table. 

“The question is what are you doing?” Rhys asked, looking up. “Why did you throw all of these away?” 

“There were errors, and what are you doing going through my trash bin?” 

“I drew garbage duty this week, and you don’t usually throw away all that much, so I unrolled one, then another.” Rhys grabbed one at random and held it up. “What’s wrong with this?”

The image of a little girl in a rain coat, smooth clean black lines, with soft yellow water colours, a bright fox at her side. Nothing. There was nothing wrong with it. 

He stepped closer, knelt down near the others; there were four others of the same image, two of a fantasy landscape, six of the fox sitting with a bow tie on. Nothing, there was nothing wrong with any of them. No smudges, no wrong colours, or wonky lines. 

“I-” Noah frowned, he didn’t have an explanation. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, fine,” Noah said. The fact that there were several versions of the fox took one image off of his to do list. “I’ve got pages to get done today,” he collected the papers, chose one of the images and flattened it between a couple of books. 

“I’ve got quarterly reports to do,” Rhys said, still watching. “I’ll do them up here. Make sure you stay focused-oh, tea?” 

“It’s very… green.” 

“You’re not going to drink it, are you,” Rhys said with a smirk. Noah shook his head, and his brother took his tea. Rhys took a sip and gave a little hum. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” 

“Drinking grass,” Noah muttered under his breath. 

He sat at his desk, and taped down his next piece of watercolour paper. He started with a pencil sketch, light soft lines of a little girl holding up a paper boat. Ink came next, listening to his brother’s fingers tapping away on his laptop, a mostly quiet companion. Watercolour followed, and came with a chill down his spine. 

Magic spilled from his fingers, and he carefully set his paintbrush in the jar of water, pushing away from his desk. 

“Noah?”

Of course his brother would notice. Rhys had always been perceptive, calculating the movements and words of others. It had saved him and got him into trouble in equal measure. 

“I’m just-” The magic was outside of his control, still his but pulled from something outside. He tried to keep his breathing under control, tried to ground the magic, it flared across the floor, the walls, that was his, but the pull remained, an ache from his core.

“I’ll go find Connor,” Rhys said, off the bed, and out of the room.

A pressure came through his sinuses, and he knelt down, trying to focus. The shadows were pulsing as he pushed magic, again and again, trying to wear it out. His ears started ringing—no, wait—he pulled his phone from his pocket. 

Hank. 

He couldn’t answer. Not now. Not like this. 

“You’re dangerous.” 

He shut his eyes. 

“Witches like you killed his son.” 

“How long until you hurt him?”

He swallowed, shadows clawing along the floors, blacking out the light from the windows. 

“You could kill him.”

“It wouldn’t even be hard.”

“Cocoon the car in shadows while he’s driving-”

“Let him die in a wreck like his son-”

“Stop!” He shouted, standing, looking around the room wanting to dismiss the vengeful spirits, unable to see any. 

“You’re dangerous, Noah,” a voice hissed in his ear. “Who are you going to hurt to prove it?” 

“Shut up!” 

The weight of a hand on his shoulder, startled him and he shoved them away without looking, backing up into the darkness. His freedom didn’t last long, a hand on his forearm, and something around his throat. He threw himself back, a body behind him slamming into the wall, the pressure around his neck tightened. 

“They don’t love you.”

“They’re not going to save you.” 

Magic rippled through his system, and he tried to fight it off, to push back. It took root, grew like vines, wrapping around, around, around, the thorns kept it all contained, and it hurt. He felt sick, his magic fading, and the arm around him loosened and he could catch a breath, gasped for it. 

“—me, fuck, it’s _me_ ,” his brain registered one of the twins. Belatedly realized it was Markus’s magic tempering his own. “It’s me, you’re okay, calm down, it’s just me-” Rhys, his brother the only thing holding him up. 

“Stop,” he pushed weakly at Markus’s hand. His brand of magic foreign and made him feel as though he had some kind of painful rash on the inside, made him want to dig in and pull it out. 

“I’m sorry, I have to.” 

“Connor’s not home,” Rhys said. “You’ll be okay-”

“Please stop, Markus, stop.” It was bad enough to be tempered by Connor. It was borderline unbearable from someone with a different magical gift, and he didn’t trust it, didn’t trust Markus to not kill him. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Markus said. “You’re okay, stop fighting.” 

He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to push Markus away, tried to wriggle out of the hold his brother had him in, and failed. 

The words all muddled as he slipped from consciousness. 

It was pain that woke him. There was someone above him, frantic— a young woman. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! You just—I didn’t see you, are you alright? I hit the brakes hard, I wasn’t going that fast—are you okay?” 

Noah slowly sat up, it was dark, but the streetlight and headlights from the woman’s car illuminated the immediate area. 

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“No,” Noah said quickly. He wasn’t dying. Pain lanced up from his knee to his hip when he stood but he didn’t think anything was broken, just bruised. “I’m okay.”

“You just walked out onto the street-”

“Sorry, I uh, I should have been paying more attention. Sorry for scaring you.” 

The woman looked to her car, then back at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” he turned away from her, walking to the sidewalk hoping that she didn’t notice he wasn’t wearing shoes. She stared a long moment before getting back into her car and driving off. He looked around, he recognized a few of the houses and realized he was in Hank’s neighbourhood. That was one good thing because he didn’t have his phone on him. 

At least this time it wasn’t raining, and he wore socks still. He walked along the sidewalk until he arrive at Hank’s. Red caught his attention as he walked by the window. 

Blood.

His heart raced. The door hit the wall in Noah’s rush to get in. Sumo whined. Noah’s heart jumped to his throat, he was going to throw up, there in the middle of the floor— “No.”

Blood on the walls. 

Blood on the walls. 

Blood on the walls.

The peonies were nothing but petals on the ground, too delicate to live as the weather got colder. Some of the more heartier plants were holding on. 

His heart raced, but there was a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t real.”

The bench was a nice place to sit, to feel the cool air on his face, to stare at the beautiful plants before the cold would take their lives. It’s a wonderful respite from the horror of the blood, and the calm washed over him like waves. 

“It’s been a while since you were here.” 

“I’ve missed it,” Noah said, becoming boneless in the seat. “It’s peaceful here.” 

“It won’t remain.”

Noah wished it would. The garden was a respite, it was safe. He brushed his fingertips along one of the roses, the petals darkening under his touch and he jerked his hand back but it was too late. The flower withered, his darkness poisoning it all the way down, leaves falling, the stem rotting, and curling over. 

“It’s a hard pill to swallow—but all we are is death. And sometimes the best thing we can do is-”

“Wake up!” 

Noah blinked, trying to get rid of the double vision before realizing the doubles were wearing different clothes. The twins. Connor and Rhys were on either side of him, staring down. 

He was on the floor. 

“What-what happened?” 

“You were drawing, and then you started having problems with your magic,” Rhys said. “I got Connor and-” he looked to his twin. 

“I’m going to be sick,” Noah said in a panic, trying to sit up but his limbs felt like boiled noodles. 

He remembered Hank-

He remembered blood on the walls. 

Rhys barely got the garbage pail under his mouth before he was vomiting. He leaned heavily on Rhys, the only thing keeping him upright, and he wanted to apologize, but Rhys just muttered assurances, and Noah couldn’t find words. 

Something hit the floor next to him. It was another round of vomiting before he could check. Connor, unconscious with a nose bleed. 

“Fuck,” Rhys hissed, before shouting, “Hey! We need some help!”

He heard someone run up the stairs, and Noah couldn’t lift his head to see who it was, and it didn’t matter. All he could think of was the words of the dead, Markus’s magic with it’s sharp thorns, and Hank- _oh Goddess, Hank_.

It wasn’t real, right?

He was still home. 

It didn’t happen. 

None of it happened.

“By the Goddess,” North rushed over, and dropped to her knees. “What happened?” 

“Is he okay?” Rhys asked, still propping Noah up, unable to reach his twin. 

North checked Connor’s pulse. “Steady, just worn out, I guess. Nose is bleeding.” 

“Is Gavin home?”

“No,” North said, gently brushing some of Connor’s hair back. “I think Simon and Josh are though.” 

“Can you get them,” Rhys requested. “Ask Simon if he’s got anything for nausea.” Noah started dry-heaving and Rhys gagged. “With haste.” 

North took off. 

::

Chloe gently wiped his brow with a cool cloth. “Ah, there you are.” 

“Chlo?” 

“How are you feeling?”

His entire body ached, tired and weak. “I’ve been better.”

“I bet,” she replied, she dipped the cloth back into a wide bowl of water, rung it out, folded it, and laid it on his forehead. “You were running a bit of a fever, I want to make sure it stays down.” 

“Where are my brothers?”

“Rhys is at work. Connor is resting, Gavin’s with him.”

“How long have I been out for?”

She checked the dainty watch on her wrist. “About twenty hours, give or take.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to sleep for a long time after being tempered, but twenty hours was a little excessive. “Can you get me my phone, please.” 

“You should be resting,” she said, but she did get up, fetching it from his desk. When she handed it over, he checked the battery life. Eight percent, that would do. 

He just stared at her until she huffed out a breath. “I’m going to warm you some soup broth, I’ll be back in ten.”

“Thanks.” He waited until she was out of the room before unlocking his phone, and scrolling down the contacts, calling the one that he needed to hear from. 

Three rings. “Hello.” 

“Hank,” he breathed the name with relief. “Hi.”

“I’m at work, this isn’t a good time,” Hank said. 

Noah sighed, and shut his eyes. “That’s okay, I just needed to hear  your voice. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be. Noah? Are you okay? Does this have something to do with Gavin calling in sick?”

“Just… just a bad dream. Will you call me when you’re done work?” 

“Sure. Have some sweet dreams for a change.” 

Noah smiled a little. “I’ll try. Thank you, Hank.” 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” 

Noah hung up, and set the phone aside. 

As promised, Chloe returned after about ten minutes with a steaming mug of chicken broth. “Can you sit up?”

He managed, and took the mug. Small sips did make his hunger lessen, and it stayed down which was nice. By the time he finished the mug he felt a little better. 

She stayed with him, sketching, and watching baking shows on the laptop set between them. He dozed off a few times, felt a little stronger each time, but always woke with that jolt—the feeling of falling from a height. 

North poked her head in later in the day. “Dinner’s done if you’re hungry.”

“Who cooked?” Noah asked. 

North smirked. “Josh did. Simon baked some desserts too.” 

It was worth getting out of bed for. Connor was already at the table when Noah walked in. His eldest brother had dark circles under his eyes, but was working on his tablet. Markus came by and snatched it out of his hands. “No technology at the dining table—your rule.”

“I’m behind,” Connor said, turning in his seat. 

“Hey,” Gavin reached out, cupped Connor’s face, his thumb brushing along Connor’s cheekbone. “You’ll get caught up, but you need to eat.” 

Connor sighed, and picked up his fork, stabbing at the food already on his plate. 

Gavin gave Noah a smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“A little tired, but I’m fine now,” he looked to Connor who was staring a blankly at his plate, fork unmoving in his hand. “Con?” 

Connor blinked quickly and looked over. “Yes?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” 

Which was the biggest load of bullshit he’d ever heard, but let it go as everyone started to get seated.

There were a few people missing from the table, but it was pretty normal considering their varying work schedules.

Noah ate, and felt a little better. Josh was a pretty good cook when he had the time to go through all the work to prep a meal. Noah stuck around at the table, listening to everyone, paying extra attention to the taste of every bite. Everything seemed so real, but then again, Rhys bringing Markus into the room had felt real. Being hit by a car had felt real. The horror in the pit of his stomach upon seeing Hank _like that_ had felt so very real. The garden had felt real. 

Was this real?

::

As nervous as Hank was, he dressed casually, grabbed his keys, and gave Sumo an extra treat as he left. He hoped his house didn’t end up egged. Leaving out a big bowl of candies with a ‘please take one’ sign made him feel like he was eighty years old. 

There were pumpkins on the porches of the houses he drove by, big grinning faces lit up. The younger trick-or-treaters were starting to come out. It left him with a deep pit of sadness. What would Cole have wanted to go out as this year? He smiled, he could ask him, but wondered if that would be rude—perhaps his son had moved past earthly things. No point in making the kid long for what could never be. 

The Arkay Coven house had a multitude of carved pumpkins on the lawn. Noah had mentioned a carving contest when they’d last talked on the phone. There were tall black pillar candles on the deck, all lit. As sunset gave way to darkness the candlelight gave even Hank the chills.

Simon stood out front all dressed up as a scarecrow amid the pumpkins, he looked bigger, the plaid shirt he wore was old, a little torn, and filled with straw. He wore a good deal of face paint that if it weren’t for his shocking blond hair, Hank might not have been able to identify who wore the costume.

A couple of small kids with their parents paused at the gate to the walkway and Hank waited in the car, watching. The little girl dressed up as a witch took a few small steps onto the Arkay lot, her little brother sticking with their parents, too scared to go on. 

Simon crouched down, pushed the bowl of candy closer to her, clearly trying to make her feel less afraid. With the promise of candy, she went closer still, crouching down to pick something out of the bowl. Simon said something Hank couldn’t hear, and the little girl looked back at her parents before nodding. 

Simon touched his fingers to the ground, soft yellow wisps of barely there magic sunk into the ground, and at her side grew a flower soft pink in colour with many petals. He picked it and the magic swirled around it as he held it out for her. 

The girl, delighted with the magic, took the flower. Hank heard the ‘look, mom!’ as he got out of the car, and the girl ran back to her family with her prize. 

Simon stood and smiled at Hank. “Blessed Samhain.”

“Uh, yeah, back at you.” 

Simon laughed but his attention shifted as a group of kids came up to the gate. Some of the parents tugged at their kids, dragging them along to the next house, but a few of the other kids ventured in. 

Gavin had invited him rather last minute—an extension of Connor, surprisingly. Gavin had said that the party would be out back, to just come around, so Hank left the trick-or-treaters to Simon, and walked around the jack-o-lanterns.

A soothing accompaniment of violin and piano played from a speaker on the back deck. The fire pit had already been lit, and a small altar had been set up. He spotted Gavin and Connor right away.

Connor’s eyes narrowed. “You.” 

Hank looked to Gavin. He hadn’t been expecting the outward animosity.

Gavin raised a brow. “You said to invite him.”

“I—oh for fuck sake—”

“You made it!” Rhys slung and arm around Hank’s shoulder, and Hank figured it out almost as fast as Connor had. “This is great!”

“You pretended to be me.” Connor glared at his twin.

“No. Your fiance just can’t tell us apart before he’s had caffeine.” Rhys laughed, raising some kind of punch. “Lighten up, Con! It’s Samhain, the fucking witches new year.” He pulled on Hank’s arm. “Come on, time to drink and make merry!” 

Hank went along with Rhys rather than remain with the awkwardness around Connor. “I wouldn’t have come if-”

“Connor’s as high strung as they come,” Rhys said, waving off his words as they approached the deck which was full of tables with different sweets. Rhys turned and walked backward on the cobblestone, and Hank got a good look at his shirt under the unzipped hoodie reading ‘I’m just here for the boos’ with a picture of a ghost holding a mug of beer on it. He stopped by the stairs. “I advise you to stay out of the brownies, Lieutenant. They’re full of weed. Everything else is fair game. Further warning-”

“Hank!” 

Hank turned at the sound of his name. Noah set one of the plates down on the table and came down the stairs, a wide smile on his face. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

“I invited him,” Rhys said, leaning toward his brother. “Sneakily.” 

“Good for you,” Noah said humouring his brother. “Simon’s starting to get trick-or-treaters-”

“Yes! It’s the most magical time of the year!” Rhys went around them, taking the middle, his arms around both their shoulders, he wiggled his fingers producing black smoke that never touched Hank. “Come on! Let’s go scare kids.” He shook Noah. “Don’t be a spoiled sport, you love this.”

Noah looked over at Hank, who shrugged. They went around the side of the house. Rhys joined Simon on the lawn but mostly lazed around on the grass, but occasionally for some of the older kids he would sit up, dark smoke creeping along blocking out the light of a few pumpkins near him—it was enough to send them running back to the sidewalk and had Rhys in stitches back on the ground. 

It was kind of nice, sitting on the deck, watching Simon and Rhys mess around. They were good with the younger kids, Simon sweetly performing magic that wouldn’t scare them, many of them walking off with a flower and their candy. 

“Sorry that my brother had to invite you—I didn’t think you would want to come to this, or I would have invited you myself,” Noah said.

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you?”

Noah stared down at his shoes. “It’s Samhain. The veil between us and the dead is the thinnest. Tonight, Necromancers ties to the aether are as powerful as they ever are. Even Rhys can do more today than usual—of course he uses it to scare kids.” 

“Am I going to see ghosts?” 

“Maybe,” Noah replied. 

“What else?” he asked, trying to ignore his nerves. “Prepare me.” 

Noah smiled. “A lot of magic. Samhain is the witches new year. We honour our beloved dead. We’ll raise up so much magic even plain-bloods in the circle will feel it.”

“Gavin didn’t warn me.”

Noah finally looked at him. “You can still leave.” 

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

“I think I’ll manage.” He got a beaming smile for that, and Hank couldn’t help but smile back. 

Rhys and Simon walked over. Rhys set his empty glass on the deck, while Simon unbuttoned the plaid shirt and all the stuffing started falling out, itching at the red marks left by the straw around his wrists, and he brushed off some of the straw stuck to his t-shirt, and bundled it up.

 Rhys squished Noah’s cheeks together making his lips purse. “Group of teenagers coming, and Simon has to get cleaned up before the real festivities get started. Come play with me.”

“Rheeeeth,” his name came out garbled with how Noah’s face was being held. 

“Don’t be a spoiled sport just because your _boyfriend_ is here. You’re welcome by the way. Now come and scare the teenagers with me.”

“Fine-”

“Great!” 

Noah patted Hank’s knee, and he noted the same mischief in Noah’s eyes that always seemed present in Rhys’s. Magic danced around Noah’s fingertips as he smirked. “This won’t take long.”

Hank watched as magic crept up the streetlights blocking them out. He could barely see the approaching teenagers, but did note the one carrying a carton of eggs. There was indistinct talking, shushing, and Hank grinned at the way the candle lights illuminated the yard just enough to make out the clawing magic. The teenagers paused at the gate, Rhys tipping his head back just a little, and magic encasing him in smoke. 

One of the teenagers cursed at the display. 

The front door opened behind Hank and it startled him enough that he jumped. North grinned at him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“The boys scaring kids?”

“Yep.”

She crouched down next to him and snapped her fingers, a flame rising, staying on the tips as she stared out at the yard. Some of Noah’s clawing magic reached out from the fence and the teenagers screeched, but three of the pumpkins suddenly exploding in a burst of flames had them all tripping over each other as they ran away. 

“I swear, kids these days are all cowards.” 

Rhys laughed, delighted at the scorched pumpkins. “Smells like pie.” 

It was the only time Hank could think of that Rhys and North had a decent interaction. 

“Simon has three pies cooling in the kitchen,” North said, extinguishing her own flame.

“Is one of them cherry?” Rhys asked, grabbing his glass, frowning as if he’d forgotten it was already empty. 

“Yeah,” the word sounded like it came with an eye-roll. “He baked you cherry. Probably because you’ve been begging for a week.”

“Oh piss off, I kindly requested it once.”

“Yeah, okay. Stay out of the drink until after the circle.” 

Rhys flipped her off, and she ignored him in favour of jumping over the two steps and walking away, Rhys’s eyes followed. 

“Am I free of scaring dumbass teenager duty?” Noah asked. 

Rhys gave Noah a light shove. “Yes, begone.” 

“Time to cast is soon,” Noah said.

“I’ll be there.” 

Noah just held out a hand, and Hank took it. They walked hand in hand as they returned the backyard. More of the coven had come outside since they’d last been there.

Chloe wore a backless dress that dragged on the grass but exposed a line of moon phase tattoos down her spine. She was sitting on Elijah’s lap on one of the garden benches, the two deep in conversation. Markus, Josh, and North were all clustered together laughing. Connor seemed to be preparing something by the fire pit, Gavin’s profile lit by the flames, as he kept an eye on Connor. 

“So what is this circle thing?” Hank asked. 

“A circle is casting of a safe area, theoretically,” Noah replied. “We’ll raise power, cast a circle. Traditions vary from coven to coven. We always try to let go of something, like a bad habit, or performed banishment spells. Then, we give thanks to our ancestors, close the circle.” 

“Has it already started?” 

“The circle, no, but the veil is thinnest tonight. Can you feel the energy?”

Hank could feel something. Nothing like Noah’s magic, but more like something softly humming through his skin. “Maybe.” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

“Is… is Cole here?” 

Noah looked around, tucked himself in closer to Hank. Glaring off to the side. “Um-” he flinched. “Stop, or I will dismiss you.” 

Hank’s arm around Noah’s waist tightened despite the fact that he couldn’t see the threat. 

Noah surged forward, and Hank could see the person as the smoke seemed to shove through their form until they were nothing, but Noah’s magic remained around his hands, creeping along the grass. 

“Sorry about that,” Noah said, he surveyed the yard. “I don’t see Cole, but it’s early yet. Once the circle is cast, we’ll have every spirit in a three block radius flocking to us, not to mention Cole is in tune enough with my energy to likely feel the beacon no matter where he is.” 

Apparently it was time, if Connor’s smoke drawing a circle around the fire pit was any indication. Noah looked light, almost elated as he looked to Hank. “Come on.”

“But I’m not a witch-”

“Doesn’t matter.” 

Hank found himself with Noah opposite to Connor as the rest of the coven started to file in. Markus and Chloe flanked Connor. “They’re to balance out my energy,” Noah whispered as Rhys took up the spot on Noah’s other side. Connor held out his left hand and Chloe took it, she held out hers and Elijah took it, extending his own to Simon, Simon to Rhys who held out his hand for his little brother, a flare of magic around their hands, Noah held out his to Hank, and in turn Hank held out his hand for Josh, Josh to North, North to Gavin, Gavin to Markus, and Markus to Connor and the moment that last connection was made Hank could feel power rushing through himself, foreign and electric. He held Noah’s hand just a little tighter. 

He looked around, Elijah had a look of wonder about him while Gavin was looking worriedly to Connor. Connor appeared utterly serene, an expression Hank never thought he’d see on the eldest Arkay. 

He felt Josh pull, and Noah push with their hands and he fell into step, they didn’t rush, but circled entirely around the fire before stepping in, the plain-bloods all a step behind but following. 

Josh released his hand, and he gripped tighter to Noah. He could see the walls of the circle, faint but there, wisps of dark smoke, yellow, and greens, flickers of red flames, and blueish electric cracks jumping along the walls.

“Stay inside the circle,” Noah said. “It’s safe.”

He saw Elijah slowly reach for the wall, stop at it, bits of the magic reaching out to touch his fingertips and he jumped back. Chloe gave him a gentle pull away. 

“This is the first Samhain we’ve had together,” Connor said from the set up, small pumpkins, a shell full of some smoking wood, crystals Hank didn’t know the names of, and a couple of lit candles were decoratively placed. “And for some,” he glanced at the three plain-bloods in attendance. “It’s your first. This is the night we banish something negative in our lives, the night in which we give honour to those we have lost, and renew ourselves with hope and light. When you’re ready, perform your banishment.” 

“What about those of us who can’t do magic?” Elijah asked. 

“Banishment spells are more ritualistic for most of us,” Markus said. 

“His way of saying he’s a witch who doesn’t believe in spells,” Chloe teased. 

“It’s putting forth an intention, and subconsciously-”

“Blah, blah, blah, come do magic with me,” Chloe pulled Elijah closer, and the man beamed. 

“Do you believe?” Hank asked Noah. 

“Sometimes the mundane is magical, just less showy.” 

“Is that a yes or a no?” 

Noah just smiled and walked away, Hank followed. Chloe went first, showing Elijah what to do, writing down something on a piece of paper, she took it to the fire, stood there a moment before she flicked the folded piece of paper into the flames. Elijah followed. Then North, Josh, Rhys, and Markus went. 

Noah tapped the marker on the altar a few times before writing; Hank figured he was supposed to look away, but couldn’t help peeking at the singular word written on Noah’s paper. Heart in his throat, Hank watched him fold up the word ‘fear’ and take it to the fire. 

Gavin gave him a little push. “Your turn.” 

Unsure of himself he picked up the marker and stared down at the blank paper. There were plenty of areas of his life that needed clean up, but following all those threads led him to the same place. 

_Grief._

He knew he had to let go of his son, to let Cole move on, to let himself live the life he still had. He looked over at Noah who waited near the fire a soft, encouraging smile on his face. 

Stepping up to the fire felt charged, the paper was just paper, just a scrap with one word written on, but inside the circle things he wouldn’t usually consider felt possible. He let the paper fall and catch fire, stood there as it curled into nothing but ash and felt lighter for it. 

Like he’d been magnetized, he walked to Noah, wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and rested his head against his shoulder. Noah’s arms embraced him in return, magic softly grazing his neck. 

“It can be a lot,” Noah whispered. “It’s okay.” 

“But it shouldn’t have done anything at all,” Hank said, watching the weaving of magic along the circle’s walls. “It’s just a piece of paper.” 

“It’s acknowledging something in your life, and understanding that now is the time to let go.” Noah didn’t release him until Hank started to pull back feeling out of sorts with his emotions so high.

Gavin tossed his paper into the fire, and Connor appeared to be the last one, holding his paper tight, eyes closed as he took a few deep breaths. The last paper caught fire, and Connor stood there for a minute even after it had been reduced to nothing but ash. 

The other witches seemed to know what was to happen next, shifting around the fire, and Noah took his hand guiding them back near where they’d started. 

“On this night we honour our ancestors. We honour our friends and the members of our family who have left us. Spirits of our ancestors, please, join us on this night. You protect and guide us always, and we thank you.” And clearly for the sake of the plain-bloods among them. “Speak the names of those you love and have lost, let us honour and remember them, they have not been forgotten.”

The crackle of the fire seemed louder. Despite the time of year, Hank was getting to be too warm in his coat. 

“Dad,” Markus said, brushing his hand over his cheek. “Carl Manfred.” 

Gavin rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyone, ever?”

Connor nodded. 

Gavin stared into the fire, looked about ready to speak, but shook his head. “Officer Neil Platz.” Hank remembered the officer, a rookie killed earlier in the year—Gavin had been the one to work the case. 

“Carl Manfred,” North said, as did Josh. 

Noah’s hand slipped into Hank’s, fingers threading together. Hank looked to Noah’s soft blue-grey eyes as he struggled to find the words. “Cole-” he sucked in a breath. “My son, Cole Anderson.” 

“Cole Anderson,” Noah repeated. “Rita Ortiz.” 

Hank wondered who she was, but it wasn’t the time to ask. A long enough pause had him looking over at who was next, Rhys at the other side of Noah, hands in fists, and magic swirling violently around him. 

Simon looked to him too. “Rhys?”

Rhys lifted his head, stared across the fire at his twin, Connor looked ready to walk over when Rhys finally lowered his gaze to the fire. “May they rest.” 

“Carl Manfred,” Simon said, but his attention was mostly on Rhys, a worried pinch in his brow. 

“Arjun Patel,” Elijah said. 

Chloe cried, and leaned into Elijah a little. “Carl Manfred. Eliza Brown.” 

Only Connor left, and he was staring a little blankly right across the fire. At Noah. He blinked a few times, and took a deep breath. “Carl Manfred. May they rest.”

“May they rest,” the witches repeated. 

They all held hands once more, and Hank felt connected through it all, a burst of energy like cold water crashing over his head, alert and practically overcome with it. He could see the magic blending around the witches hands as it rose and then settled, and as they’d circled the fire before, this time they did it in the opposite direction, the power lessening. 

Hank could finally feel the cool breeze, and looking around the magic of the circle had dissipated into nothing. 

Everyone started moving freely, chatting, crying, laughing. Connor moved with purpose, walked right by them, and Hank looked over his shoulder to see Rhys must have been first out of the circle, walking away, and Connor grabbed him, pulled him into his arms and they held each other fiercely. 

“Are they okay?” Hank asked. 

Noah watched a moment before looking away. “Let’s give them a minute.” 

“Who was Carl?” Hank figured the man must have been important, remembered by the many. 

“Markus’s father. He was the house parent of the Manfred coven. I didn’t know him well, but he was kind.”

“And Rita?”

“A writer I used to work with,” Noah replied. “We talked a lot, became friends, she lived in LA. Died of cancer before Yule.” 

“Have you seen her?”

“No. We never saw each other in person. I’m not sure spirits can find their way to someone they’ve never physically met. Besides, I didn’t really talk about…” he waved his fingers and smoke danced between them. “She never knew what I am.” 

It sounded lonely, to hide such a crucial part of himself. Hank frowned, but followed as Noah led him to the back deck and started getting into the snacks. 

It seemed like the serious part of the night was over. Someone started up the music. Gavin gave Hank a beer. Chloe had started dancing barefoot on the lawn. Josh and Markus were hugging. 

He spotted the twins on the edge of the garden, the two of them making their way back. Connor split off to speak with North, while Rhys went right for the deck. 

“You good?” Noah asked. 

“Just need a drink. Circles make me antsy,” Rhys replied, pulling a bottle of whiskey and a can of cola from a cooler. 

As the night went on, Hank heard stories of Carl as he was remembered by those who had been in his coven. Stories of others who had passed. He saw things out of the corner of his eye—lingering magic from being part of a circle with so many powerful necromancers. He still felt warmer than what the weather called for, wondered if that was the pyromancer’s doing. 

Noah had entire conversations with people Hank could not see, while that was going on, Hank spent some time with Rhys, who had hit the liquor hard but who still managed to keep a quick wit about himself, spinning stories that had both himself and whoever else was nearby in stitches. 

He talked with Gavin for a while, went indoors with him as they each grabbed another beer from the fridge. “So that was wild, huh?”

“I thought you were used to magic,” Hank said, accepting the beer Gavin held out. 

“I’m used to Connor’s.” Gavin said it like there was a difference. Hank understood. He was starting to grow accustom to Noah’s magic but it was far different than what he’d just experienced.  “The only time I-” Gavin paused, chugged half his beer, and set it on the counter. “I’m usually working what the witches consider big holidays, and some that I have been around for are just celebrated smaller.” 

“I’m sure some holidays you go into with a little more effort, and a little more joy,” Rhys said sauntering in with and empty glass. “We are no different.” The back door shut and Rhys leaned back for a look down the hall. “Good, Simon. Did you hide the whiskey?”

“If someone has already hidden it from you, it’s probably time for some water,” Simon suggested bringing a stack of empty plates to the sink. 

“If I drink a glass of water will you tell me where it’s hidden?”

Simon just moved past them, opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, tossing it at an uncoordinated Rhys, so it ended up on the floor. Simon grimaced, and Hank doubted Rhys would be getting his whiskey back any time soon. 

“There you guys are!” Chloe walked in, bits of damp grass stuck between her toes. “The party is outside.”

“Do you know-” Chloe shoved a large chunk of of brownie into Rhys’s mouth, silencing him as he chewed. 

“The stars are out,” she said in a state of complete awe. “Come look at them with me.”

“How did I draw the stay sober stick?” Simon asked but went easily with Chloe, and Rhys couldn’t verbally argue and went along. 

Gavin and Hank ended up back outside, sitting on the deck stairs. Hank had a nice buzz going on, and he was surprised when Connor sat down on the stairs below them. Gavin spread his legs a little so his boyfriend could sit between them and lean back on his chest. Connor eyed the beer in Hank’s hand. “You’re either spending the night or taking a cab.” 

His tone had calmed a little, and Hank wondered if he’d earned some begrudging respect out of the necromancer. “Figured I’d take a cab after a couple drinks.” 

“Hm, good.” 

“Want some?” Gavin offered Connor his beer, wiggling the bottle a little. 

“Better not. Noah-” he looked over at Hank, and whatever he saw, he continued. “He’s been having a harder time than usual. Episodes are happening more frequently. I’m having a harder time containing his magic.” 

The weight of the truth settled on Hank’s chest, so heavy he could barely breathe through it. 

“I can’t afford a slip of control right now.” Connor took a deep breath and stood. “Speaking of which, I have some research to do. He planted his hands on Gavin’s knees when he bent down to kiss him. 

“Now?” Gavin asked. “This is literally a party.” 

“Especially now,” Connor said as he passed and went back inside. 

Gavin lasted a whole three minutes before he excused himself to check on Connor, which was longer than Hank had expected. 

He looked around, Noah was sitting on the grass away from everyone but appeared to be having a conversation with someone. Markus had his arm over North’s shoulders, and the two of them were chatting with Josh. 

A large blanket was spread out, Rhys, Simon, Elijah, and Chloe were all sitting around on it. Chloe waved him over, and since it would be rude not to he walked over and she grabbed his hand pulling him to get him to sit down. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but he had enough alcohol in his system to deal with it. 

“Now, Hank,” she said waving a little tart around, she had a whole plate of desserts in front of her, but didn’t look keen on sharing. “I remember you having some tattoos that I did not get to see, nor hear tale of.” She took a bite eying him. “Show me.”

“You can’t just ask a guy to take off his clothes,” Simon said. 

“It’s professional courtesy-” she popped the other half in her mouth, while Rhys grabbed the small slice of cherry pie from her plate without her noticing.  “Wait no, the other word-”

“Curiosity,” Elijah said. 

Chloe giggled, and leaned into him. “Yes, yes! That’s the one. Professional curiosity.”

“What are you personally curious about?” Noah asked, finally joining them, and Hank was glad, surely he would be able to rein in his friend without Hank having to be rude. 

“No, professionally,” Chloe said, her hands wiggling over the plate of desserts before choosing a little slice of pumpkin pie. “His tattoos.” 

“Oh,” Noah’s eyes met his, smiled a bit. “Yes, what are they?” 

“Show us!”

“Chloe!” Noah glared at her. 

“Uhg. No fun. I wanna see.” 

“Is this a weird colour?” Rhys asked, holding up the bottle of wine he’d been drinking. 

Simon glanced over. “What are you talking about?”

“It was white wine, right?” 

It was clearly a rosé, and Simon sighed. “You finished the white an hour ago,” he managed to swipe the bottle from Rhys’s weak grasp. “You’re done.” 

“No,” Rhys whined. 

“Yes, you’re cut off.” 

Rhys pouted. “You’re the worst.”

“Do I need to take you to bed—” His pale face went red. “Wait no, _you know what I mean_!” His friends laughed with delight, and Rhys went right into teasing.

Noah yanked on Hank’s hand. “Come with me.” 

“Why?”

“Cole.” 

That was answer enough for him, and no one chimed up as they left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DaydreamsGolden) and as per usual, I'm hanging out over at on [ Detroit: New ERA ](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) there’s lots of fics, and fanart, and fun, so come join us <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also hanging out over on [ Detroit: New ERA ](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) (same username) where I occasionally leave snippets of upcoming chapters/ free-write some DBH content that may/may not end up on AO3. Plus, there are a ton of other writers and artists, so spoil yourself a little and come join in <3


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